C 


THE  JAMES  K.  MOFFITT   FUND. 


LIBRARY  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


GIFT    OF 

JAMES    KENNEDY   MOFFITT 

OF  THE   CLASS   OF  '86. 

Accession  No.     I  0.5  Q  3  3  Class  No.  °\  S4  ^ 


MORAL    CULTURE 
AS  A  SCIENCE 


BY 
THEODA  WILKINS,  M.D. 

AND 

BERTHA  S.  WILKINS 


SAN   FRANCISCO 
THE  WHITAKER  AND  RAY  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 

1900 


COPYRIGHT,  1900, 

BY 
BERTHA  S.  WILKINS. 


PREFACE. 

THE  great  necessity  for  a  definite  plan  of  presenting 
the  subject  of  Ethics  to  children  in  the  public  schools 
has  led  to  the  preparation  of  this  treatise.  The  fact 
that  a  work  was  needed  which  should  be  practical,  and 
yet  wide  in  its  range,  has  been  constantly  kept  in  mind. 

For  the  convenience  of  readers,  the  book  has  been 
divided  into  three  parts,  with  the  addition  of  an  ap- 
pendix. 

In  the  first  part,  those  fundamental  psychological 
facts  which  have  a  bearing  especially  upon  ethical 
development  have  been  set  forth,  as  it  seemed  neces- 
sary that  they  be  kept  in  mind  by  the  reader.  In  the 
second  part,  the  nature  of  the  various  virtues,  and 
practical  suggestions  for  teaching  them,  are  considered, 
while  the  ethical  aspect  of  school  discipline  and  of  our 
common-school  branches  of  study  are  discussed  in  the 
third  part. 

The  MS.  of  this  work  has  been  carefully  reviewed 
by  educational  experts,  and  the  conclusions  reached 
have  been  pronounced  correct,  without  exception.  As 
to  the  manner  of  presenting  them  there  has  been  a 
difference  of  opinion. 

The  popular  method  of  illustrating  ethical  truths 
by  stories,  for  children  as  well  as  for  adults,  is  con- 
sidered by  far  the  most  successful  one,  and  doubt  was 
expressed  as  to  the  possibility  of  teaching  ethics  in 
any  other  way. 

3 


105033 


4  Preface. 

So  much  is  being  done  in  this  field  by  wholesome 
publications  like  the  Youth's  Companion  and  many 
series  of  books,  that  work  of  this  kind  seemed  super- 
fluous, although  a  few  illustrative  stories  for  children 
are  appended  to  this  work. 

Ethical  culture  obtained  in  this  way  is  necessarily 
disconnected  and  fragmentary.  Educators,  be  they 
parents,  teachers,  or  settlement  workers,  need  a  clear, 
connected,  and  scientific  grasp  of  the  subject  as  a  whole; 
this  we  have  tried  to  give,  employing  the  analytical 
treatment  of  parts  while  preserving  the  unity  of  the 
whole. 

We  hope  that  the  approval  of  our  readers  may 
justify  our  method  of  presentation. 

B.  S.  W. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION 7 

PART  FIRST. 

CHAP.  I.  WHAT  is  MORALITY? 13 

II.  THE  APPETITES  OP  THE  BODY 17 

III.  THE  DESIRES  OF  THE  MIND 22 

IV.  ATTRIBUTES  AND  EMOTIONS 29 

V.  MENTAL  AND  MORAL  TRAINING 35 

VI.     MORALITY  IN  SCHOOL 40 

VII.     LOVE  AND  FEAR 47 

VIII.     CANT  AND  MORALIZING 59 

PART  SECOND. 

CHAP.  I.    THE  PERSONAL  VIRTUES 61 

II.  How  TO  TEACH  THE  PERSONAL  VIRTUES     ...  68 

III.  THE  IDEAL  VIRTUES 87 

IV.  THE  SOCIAL  VIRTUES 95 

PART  THIRD. 

CHAP.  I.     METHODS  OF  REACHING  THE  CHILD 108 

II.     SCHOOL  GOVERNMENT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  MORAL 

TRAINING 124 

III.  THE  ETHICAL  IN  OUR  COMMON  SCHOOL  STUDIES  .  136 

IV.  REFLECTIONS 139 

APPENDIX. 

MARTIN'S  THINKING 149 

COBWEBS 156 

THE  MINER'S  SON 168 

5 


Contents. 


" DOCTOR  CHARLES" 176 

CONSIDERATION 180 

KINDNESS 183 

FRANK'S  LESSON 188 

How  A  GLACIER  ANSWERED  A  QUESTION 193 

MISCELLANEOUS  PROVERBS 194 

QUOTATIONS 196 


INTRODUCTION. 

MORALITY  has,  up  to  the  present  time,  been  taught 
in  public  schools  only  incidentally  as  misdemeanors 
were  committed  and  occasion  arose  for  their  correc- 
tion. It  has  never  been  made  a  subject  of  regular 
systematic  instruction.  For  that  reason  it  has  made 
comparatively  little  impression  upon  the  minds  of 
children.  Those  who  were  dependent  for  their  in- 
struction in  this  direction  upon  the  public  schools 
have  therefore  received  but  vague  and  uncertain  ideas 
regarding  their  moral  nature  and  duties. 

A  systematic  education  includes,  besides  mental 
and  physical  training,  also  moral  culture.  Such  an 
education  the  state  is  in  duty  bound  to  give  to  its 
future  citizens. 

To  invest  this  subject  of  morality  with  its  rightful 
dignity  and  importance  in  the  eyes  of  school  chil- 
dren, certain  regular  hours  should  be  set  aside  for  the 
study  of  its  guiding  principles.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
concentration  of  thought  is  indispensable  for  the 
thorough  understanding  and  mastery  of  the  subject. 
Only  one  thing  at  a  time  can  be  studied.  Inciden- 
tally, of  course,  both  oral  and  written  language  is 
taught  most  effectively,  as  moral  instruction  awakens 
many  thoughts  of  vital  interest  in  the  child's  mind 
to  which  he  will  give  spontaneous  utterance.  But  to 
the  child,  it  is  studying  only  the  great  subject  of  how 
to  do  right,  how  to  live.  These  moral  principles 

7 


8  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

must  be  studied  as  thoroughly  as  those  of  any  other 
branch  of  knowledge.  This  course  of  regular  instruc- 
tion would  dispel  the  utter  ignorance  on  the  subject, 
which  is  now  too  often  the  cause  of  immorality. 
Ignorance  could  then,  at  least,  no  longer  be  pleaded 
as  an  excuse  for  wrong-doing. 

But  many  earnest  teachers  are  opposed  to  the  spe- 
cial study  of  morality  in  our  public  schools.  "  Do  not 
moralize,"  is  their  plea.  The  answer  is,  Teaching 
the  laws  and  principles  of  moral  conduct  is  not 
moralizing.  It  is  giving  information  which  the  state 
owes  its  future  citizens.  No  one  can  be,  in  justice, 
expected  to  obey  the  laws  of  which  he  is  ignorant,  and 
certainly  such  ignorance  is  more  harmful  in  its  effect 
than  any  other.  Only  when  the  nation  as  a  whole 
understands,  as  it  does  not  now,  the  principles  which 
should  govern  the  actions  of  men,  can  it  attain  an 
elevated  moral  standpoint. 

In  the  universities  and  in  some  high  schools,  ethics 
are  taught;  but  it  is  believed  by  many  thoughtful  edu- 
cators that  younger  children  should  not  be  taught 
ethics,  excepting  incidentally  in  connection  with  school 
government.  They  fear  that  it  will  lead  to  morbid 
introspection  in  the  child,  and  to  what  they  are  pleased 
to  call  the  "curse  of  the  New  England  conscience," 
which  makes  its  unfortunate  possessor  feel  continually 
"  under  condemnation." 

Now  it  is  not  only  to  gain  a  knowledge  of  moral 
principles,  but  also  to  avoid  the  possibility  of  falling 
into  such  a  pitiable  condition  of  mind,  that  the  plea 
for  broad,  comprehensive  moral  culture  is  made.  A 
mind  accustomed  to  finding  the  principles  of  right 


Introduction.  9 

which  underlie  even  every-day  questions  will  learn  to 
see  the  true  proportion  of  things,  and  will  never  be 
weighed  down  by  a  sense  of  wrong  when  this  is  un- 
just to  itself.  Moreover,  what  is  this  much- to-be- 
feared  New  England  conscience?  Its  very  existence 
simply  proves  that  moral  lessons,  taught  in  early 
childhood,  cannot  easily  be  eradicated. 

"As  the  twig  is  bent,  the  tree  is  inclined."  In  the 
truth  of  this  old  adage  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  believed. 
New  England  parents  of  former  times  brought  up 
their  children  in  the  name  and  in  the  fear  of  God; 
but  it  was  in  the  fear  of  an  angry,  jealous  God,  whose 
threatening  presence  was  always  with  them.  They 
succeeded  in  rearing  a  race  strong,  stern,  and  unflinch- 
ing in  all  matters  of  religion.  ( This  does  not  mean 
that  they  were  necessarily  honest  and  just.  Their 
treatment  of  the  Indians,  of  the  Quakers,  or  any  others 
differing  from  them  in  religious  matters,  is  notorious.) 

Times  have  changed.  Wo  no  longer  fear  an  angry 
God,  but  we  pray  to  a  loving  Father,  who  wishes  us 
to  see  in  every  man  His  child,  our  brother,  whom  we 
are  to  love  as  ourselves.  Instead  of  narrow  com- 
mands and  precepts  with  which  the  Puritan  was 
bound,  we  teach  broad  principles  of  the  Ideal  Right, 
and  call  upon  every  individual  to  formulate  the  laws 
of  his  own  conduct  accordingly.  We  can  learn  from 
the  Puritans  that  firm  faithfulness  with  which  they 
impressed  their  precepts  upon  the  young  minds,  how- 
ever "  uncouth  Time  may  have  rendered  their  Right." 

Little  children  can  well  understand  what  is  right 
and  wrong,  and  why  it  is  so.  They  have  to  live  their 
lives  and  form  habits  which  will  influence  their  future. 


10  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

They  have  a  free  will,  and  can  act  as  they  decide,  mak- 
ing their  existence  either  a  blessing  or  a  torment  to 
all  around  them.  Why,  then,  should  they  not  be 
taught  the  principles  of  morality  as  far  as  they  can 
understand  them?  A  child  begins  to  lead  its  own 
inner  life,  it  learns  to  reason  about  things,  as  soon 
as  it  begins  to  think,  and  it  thus  becomes  the  center 
of  a  circle  from  which  its  influence  extends  either  for 
good  or  for  evil.  There  is  no  stand-still  in  moral 
life.  Either  backward  or  forward  men  must  go. 
Is  it  right,  then,  to  let  children  grow  up  all  the  while 
working  at  the  very  foundation  of  their  lives,  without 
giving  them  the  principles  according  to  which  they 
should  build?  Everything  received  as  truth  in  child- 
hood, that  enters  into  the  life  and  activities  of  the 
young  mind,  retains  through  all  the  years  of  later  life 
a  poetic  charm  which  no  lessons  of  after  years  can 
equal.  If  the  experience  of  the  man  confirms  the 
truth  of  the  child's  instructions,  he  will  very  often 
live  up  to  them  more  and  more.  Especially  is  this 
the  case  with  the  young,  earnest  men  and  women  who 
have  children  to  train.  The  eager  demands  of  the 
little  ones  make  them  reach  far  back  into  their  child- 
hood to  find  those  things  which  have  been  helpful  to 
them  in  their  own  moral  development. 

That  the  principles  of  true  morality  should  be  taught 
in  the  public  schools,  no  one  will  doubt,  who  has  ob- 
served the  foolish  manner  in  which  most  children  are 
trained  at  home.  Few  parents  know  what  real  moral 
culture  is.  They  have  frequently  only  very  vague  no- 
tions of  Right  or  Wrong,  but  in  a  general  way  they 
want  their  children  to  do  the  one  and  avoid  the  other, 


Introduction.  11 

though  they  are,  as  a  rule,  not  impartial  enough  to 
judge  the  shortcomings  of  their  own  children  justly. 

Many  parents,  moreover,  often  laugh  at  serious  faults 
when  in  good  humor,  and  punish  innocent  doings 
severely  when  they  happen  to  be  irritable.  In  fact, 
very  few  parents  have  themselves  ever  had  any  special 
moral  instruction,  and  consequently  they  cannot  give 
it  to  their  children.  It  is  like  the  mental  instruction 
which  the  child  receives  at  home.  A  few  parents 
know  how  to  teach,  and  their  children  make  rapid  pro- 
gress, but  in  most  cases  the  home  training  is  deficient, 
and  for  the  education  of  the  people  we  must  depend 
upon  good  schools  for  moral  as  well  as  mental  devel- 
opment. 

Upon  the  teachers  of  our  public  schools  must  de- 
pend much  of  the  progress  in  moral  lines  which  all 
patriotic  citizens  fondly  hope  may  raise  our  national 
character  above  anything  dreamed  of  so  far. 

At  present,  conditions  for  rational  school  work  are 
hard,  but  with  the  elevation  of  public  morals  will 
come  the  ideal  school,  in  which  the  kindergarten  spirit 
and  the  kindergarten  conditions  as  to  time,  numbers, 
and  materials  furnished  for  work  will  be  realities. 

If  teachers  will  enter  into  the  best  spirit  of  our  time, 
that  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  writings  of  Charles 
Kingsley,  James  Russell  Lowell,  Thomas  Hughes,  and 
Jane  Addams,  and  carry  into  their  school  life  this 
same  magnificent  sympathy  with  all  their  kind,  this 
same  confidence  in  all  humanity,  whether  rich  or 
poor,  old  or  young,  they  will  find  that  teaching  moral 
principles  will  become  the  happiest  work  of  their 
lives.  School  will  not  drag  upon  their  hands;  a  new 


12  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

meaning  and  a  higher  significance  will  appear  about 
even  every-day  occurrences.  Their  eyes  will  be  opened, 
and  they  will  see  the  rich  fields  waiting  for  the  sower 
to  scatter  good  seeds  before  the  weeds  have  had  time 
to  cover  the  land! 

Although  this  book  was  designed  to  lead  teachers 
to  realize  the  necessity  of  and  to  give  some  practical 
help  in  teaching  moral  principles,  yet  it  is  not  ex- 
pected nor  desired  that  teachers  will  accept  the  views 
presented  without  questioning  their  correctness.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  hoped  that  all  readers  may,  to  their 
own  satisfaction,  verify  all  the  conclusions  reached, 
and  act  accordingly. 


MORAL  CULTURE  AS  A  SCIENCE. 


^ftrV          Watt  Jttst 

OF  THE  > 

UNIVERSITY 

CHAPTER   I. 

WHAT   IS  MORALITY? 

IN  every  human  being  there  exists  an  innate  sense 
that  some  acts  are  less  right  to  perform  than  others; 
that  there  is  a  right  and  a  wrong. 

We  recognize  this  sense  in  the  little  child,  and  find 
it  also  in  the  savage.  When  this  sense  is  cultivated 
it  becomes  moral  judgment.  Associated  with  this 
there  is  a  feeling,  also  inborn,  which  prompts  us  to 
do  the  right  and  fear  the  wrong;  this  is  called  con- 
science. These  instincts  are  the  basis  of  all  morality, 
and  on  this  basis  we  must  build  the  science  of  moral- 
ity,— i.e.,  the  knowledge  of  that  which  is  right  accord- 
ing to  our  present  conception  of  the  word.  This 
knowledge  of  right  is  not  inborn,  but  varies  with  the 
age  and  education  of  the  individual,  and  the  spirit  of 
the  time  in  which  he  may  live. 

From  history  we  learn  of  many  unjust  and  terrible 
deeds  committed  under  the  impression  that  they  were 
right.  Even  now  our  civilization  allows  wrongs  to 
be  committed  which  will  seem  inhuman  and  savage  in 
a  hundred  years.  In  countries  that  we  call  "civil- 
ized," the  teachings  of  Christ  are  accepted  theoreti- 
cally as  the  highest  conceptions  of  morality.  They 
are  summed  up  in  the  great  command,  "  Love  the 
Lord  thy  God  above  all,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 

13 


14  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

These  form  the  foundation  upon  which,  in  theory, 
the  right  and  wrong  are  based  and  by  which  we  meas- 
ure the  righteousness  of  any  act. 

In  the  United  States,  the  constitution  separates 
church  and  state,  and  for  that  reason  religion  cannot 
be  taught  in  the  public  schools,  for  many  persons  con- 
sider the  belief  in  God  a  superstition,  and  do  not  want 
their  children  to  hear  of  it  in  school.  Other  parents 
object  to  having  their  children  taught  even  the  sim- 
plest religious  principles  by  any  but  members  of  their 
own  denomination.  Therefore  the  teaching  of  a  per- 
sonal God  must  be  left  to  home  and  church;  but  no 
parents  will  object  to  having  their  children  taught  the 
laws  of  God,  Love,  Truth,  Justice,  Honesty,  and  Hu- 
mility, for  these  are  the  foundation  of  all  our  con- 
ceptions of  right  at  the  present  time. 

The  law  of  Moses,  "  Love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thy  heart,"  is  the  expression  of  our  inborn  longing 
for  something  that  is  higher  and  better  than  that 
which  we  have.  The  desire  for  the  ideal  expresses 
itself  in  it;  therefore  we  may  call  truth,  honesty,  hu- 
mility, and  justness  the  ideal  virtues.  They  are  to  the 
character  what  temper  is  to  steel  and  brilliancy  to  the 
diamond.  The  temper  makes  the  difference  between 
steel  and  pig-iron;  the  brilliancy  distinguishes  the 
stone  from  glass.  Thus  love  of  truth  and  right 
belongs  to  the  noble  character,  above  the  time-server 
and  man  of  policy. 

The  second  great  ethical  law  that  we  have  accepted 
is,  "  Love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself."  Not  with  your 
whole  heart,  as  you  love  truth  and  right,  but  as  your- 
self; willing  to  give  to  him  what  you  wish  that  he 
should  give  to  you,  —  help,  respect,  and  consideration. 


What  is  Morality  f  15 

The  instinctive  desire  for  the  sympathy  and  love  of 
others  which  all  possess,  is  one  of  the  earliest  manifes- 
tations of  the  child's  moral  nature.  Its  reciprocal, 
love  of  man,  is  the  source  of  the  social  virtues,  which, 
by  their  general  exercise,  bring  most  of  pleasure  and 
happiness  into  the  human  life.  Their  key-note  is  the 
Golden  Rule,  "Do  unto  others  as  you  would  have 
others  do  unto  you,"  and  the  life  that  is  without 
them  may  be  pronounced  a  partial  failure,  with  but 
little  true  happiness  in  it.  The  virtues  founded  on 
the  love  of  man,  constituting  the  group  of  social  vir- 
tues, include  benevolence,  kindness,  generosity,  grati- 
tude, etc. 

Naturally,  children  want  to  do  right;  their  hearts 
glow  when  they  hear  of  a  noble,  generous  deed,  and 
they  want  to  imitate  it.  They  love  their  parents  and 
friends,  and  are  glad  to  show  this  love  to  them.  But 
there  is  so  much  pleasure  to  be  had  from  the  fulfill- 
ment of  the  desires,  so  often  advantages  of  a  certain 
kind  to  be  gained  by  wrong-doing,  that  if  they  have 
not  learned  to  control  their  love  of  pleasure,  they  can- 
not do  right.  Not  until  they  have  learned  to  do  right 
by  training  and  strengthening  the  will  to  listen  to  the 
dictates  of  judgment  and  conscience,  are  they  able  to 
overcome  their  passions  in  the  time  of  temptation, 
and  make  of  these  stepping-stones  to  a  higher  life. 

Little  by  little  the  will  must  be  trained,  as  an  ath- 
lete is  trained  for  his  feats  of  endurance.  Only  in 
this  way  can  children  learn  the  practice  of  self-control 
in  their  daily  life. 

The  virtues  that  flow  more  particularly  from  self- 
control  may  be  called  the  personal  virtues,  for  they 


16  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

refer  more  directly  to  the  person  himself.  They  are 
temperance,  diligence,  courage,  chastity,  patience, 
cheerfulness,  etc.  The  foundation  of  all  virtues  is 
self-control;  for  a  man  who  cannot  control  his  pas- 
sions and  emotions  can  never  be  depended  upon.  He 
may  love  his  fellow-men,  he  may  love  right  and  wish 
to  follow  it,  yet  his  passions  and  emotions  present 
their  claims,  and  not  having  learned  to  deny  or  con- 
trol them,  his  good  intentions  come  to  naught.  Self- 
control  is  the  most  difficult  lesson  to  learn.  Natural 
instinct  helps  children  to  love  the  other  virtues,  but 
the  control  of  self  is  uphill  work.  Yet,  continual 
self-control  of  desires  and  pleasures,  even  of  their 
thoughts  and  of  their  wishes,  is  the  price  which  they 
must  pay  for  the  mastery  over  self.  This  continual 
self-control  is  against  all  natural  impulses.  But  is 
not  the  victory  over  self  worth  the  price  that  it  costs? 
Henry  More  happily  expresses  the  gain  in  the  follow- 
ing words:  — 

"  By  persisting  in  a  habit  of  self-denial,  we  shall, 
beyond  what  I  can  express,  increase  the  inward  pow- 
ers of  the  mind,  and  shall  produce  that  cheerfulness 
and  greatness  of  spirit  as  will  fit  us  for  all  good  pur- 
poses; and  shall  not  have  lost  pleasure,  but  changed 
it;  the  soul  being  then  filled  with  its  own  intrinsic 
pleasures." 


CHAPTER   II. 
THE   APPETITES   OF   THE    BODY. 

IN  moral  culture,  the  Appetites  of  the  Body  and  the 
Desires  and  Emotions  of  the  Mind  are  the  factors  with  i 
which  we  have  to  deal. 

The  Appetites  of  the  Body,  four  in  number,  are  ne- 
cessary for  the  existence  of  the  individual  and  the  race. 
Man  shares  them  with  every  organism  possessing 
life,  —  not  only  with  the  lower  animals,  but  also  with 
plants.  They  are, — 

The  Appetite  for  Nourishment  (air,  food,  drink). 

For  Activity. 

For  Rest. 

For  Reproduction. 

Thus  it  is,  without  doubt,  a  moral  duty  to  take  as 
much  fresh  air  and  wholesome  nourishment  as  the 
welfare  of  the  body  demands.  Nature  has  made  the 
fulfillment  of  this  duty  so  pleasant  that  man  often 
eats  and  drinks  more  than  the  body  can  assimilate,  or 
food  which  he  knows  to  be  unwholesome,  though 
pleasing  to  the  palate.  Sometimes,  the  natural  appe- 
tite is  allowed  to  become  a  passion,  which  may  de- 
stroy the  power  of  the  will,  leaving  its  poor  victim  a 
wreck. 

THE  APPETITE  FOR  FOOD.  The  deeire  for  nour- 
ishment, expressed  by  thirst,  is  the  first  to  appear  in 
independent  life,  as  well  in  the  little  human  baby  as 
in  the  baby  plant.  Indeed,  the  absorption  of  nutri- 

17 


18  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

live  material  from  a  solution,  and  the  removal  of  waste 
matter,  seem  to  be  the  fundamental  acts  of  that  unex- 
plained mystery,  Life,  in  whatever  stage  of  existence 
it  may  be  found. 

This  appetite  includes  the  desire  for  shelter  and 
clothing,  which,  indirectly,  may  be  said  to  nourish 
the  body  by  economizing  the  expenditure  of  vital 
force,  and  therefore  of  nourishment  necessary  to  pro- 
duce this  force.  This  first-developed  and  most  funda- 
mental appetite  in  man  has  become  the  source  of  all 
industrial  advances  that  have  been  made  through  the 
progress  of  civilization,  as  it  is  also  the  source  of  the 
ambition  for  wealth. 

FOR  ACTIVITY.  Activity  of  the  body  is  necessary 
for  its  growth  and  perfect  development.  No  muscle 
will  develop  and  increase  as  it  should,  unless  it  is  in 
active  use,  and  a  child  that  is  for  the  most  part  kept 
quiet  indoors  remains  weak  and  small.  Muscular  ex- 
ercise increases  the  force  of  circulation,  brings  a 
greater  blood  supply  to  every  tissue,  and  so  promotes 
the  active  changes  which  are  necessary  for  growth  and 
health.  The  desire  for  activity  is  therefore  universally 
found.  The  smallest  baby  executes  purposeless  move- 
ments with  its  limbs,  and  mothers  know  that  the  child 
that  does  not  "kick"  is  not  " all  right. "  Even  trees 
growing  in  exposed  places  are  more  gnarled,  perhaps, 
but  also  stronger,  tougher,  and  more  vigorous,  than 
others  of  the  same  species  growing  in  sheltered  loca- 
tions. 

Activity,  carried  to  excess,  may  degenerate  into  de- 
structiveness.  By  producing  a  passion  for  out-of-door 
sports  at  all  costs,  it  may  interfere  with  the  child's 


The  Appetites  of  the  Body.  19 

mental  development,  and  lessen  or  destroy  his  useful- 
ness as  an  individual. 

FOR  REST.  The  appetite  for  rest  is  the  sequel  and 
counterpart  of  that  for  activity.  What  a  delicious 
feeling  of  relief  is  produced  hy  rest,  after  a  busy  day, 
when  the  body  is  thoroughly  fatigued.  Rest,  under 
such  circumstances,  is  generally  accompanied  by  a 
deep  and  refreshing  sleep.  The  child  sleeps  in  its 
mother's  arms;  the  dog  curls  up  and  sleeps  in  the  sun- 
shine; at  night,  the  flowers  close,  the  leaves  fold  up, 
and  plants,  as  well  as  animals,  appear  to  rest. 

The  word  "  rest "  presupposes  a  previous  exertion. 
The  appetite  for  rest  may,  however,  and  in  later  life 
too  often  does,  degenerate  into  indolence,  —  a  desire  for 
rest  without  previous  exertion.  While  pleasure  af- 
forded by  rest  after  activity  is  one  of  the  kind  gifts  of 
nature  to  promote  human  welfare  and  happiness,  in- 
dolence will  slowly,  but  surely,  sap  away  all  life  and 
energy,  every  high  and  noble  feeling,  leaving  its  vic- 
tim a  mere  vegetating  being,  too  often  to  fall  an  easily 
yielding  prey  to  the  other  appetites,  excepting  that  for 
activity.  Perhaps  no  other  appetite  exerts  such  a 
strong  influence  over  a  great  many,  otherwise  good, 
conscientious  persons;  laziness  enters  as  a  dry-rot  into 
many  lives. 

REPRODUCTION.  The  three  appetites  above  de- 
scribed are  necessary  for  the  well-being  of  the  indi- 
vidual. They  therefore  appear  with  the  first  dawn 
of  life.  That  for  reproduction  has  for  its  object  the 
perpetuation  of  the  race,  and  does  not  appear  in  normal 
individuals  until  the  age  of  maturity.  Like  the  others, 
it  exists  in  a  rudimentary  form  among  plants.  Among 


20  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

the  higher  animals  it  develops  not  only  into  a  true 
conjugal  love,  but  often  into  a  self-sacrificing  love  for 
the  offspring.  In  man,  developed  and  expanded,  it 
becomes  the  source  of  the  noblest  and  most  enduring 
feelings  of  his  nature,  —  the  pure  love  between  hus- 
band and  wife,  and  strong,  self-forgetful,  parental 
love. 

This  appetite  is  sometimes  found  active  in  children, 
either  from  an  inherited  nervous  constitution  (which 
should  be  treated  by  hygienic  and  other  measures),  or 
more  generally  because  it  has  been  forced  into  its  pre- 
cocious development  by  bad  habits.  Prominent  among 
the  latter  is  the  pernicious  one  of  "teasing"  or  ban- 
tering a  child  because  of  some  real  or  fancied  prefer- 
ence for  a  child  of  the  opposite  sex.  This  habit  is 
only  too  often  indulged  in  by  young  and  old,  including 
even  teachers,  yet  nothing  could  be  more  mischievous 
in  its  effects  upon  the  young  mind.  Such  a  course 
prematurely  awakens  desires,  which,  if  left  to  their 
natural  growth,  may  become  the  source  of  the  purest 
happiness.  But  thus  early  to  awaken  what  nature 
intended  to  lie  dormant  is  like  tearing  open  the  bud 
of  a  flower:  even  if  the  bud  is  not  destroyed,  yet  there- 
after it  can  never  attain  to  that  perfection  of  beauty 
which  it  might  have  reached  had  it  been  left  to  de- 
velop naturally.  When  young  people  have  passed  the 
period  of  childhood  without  having  lost  that  purity  of 
feeling  which  is  their  rightful  inheritance,  they  will 
acquire  a  certain  reserve,  a  reticent  modesty,  which 
nature  provides  as  a  protector  against  the  too  rapid 
development  of  this  instinct.  What  a  proof  of  the 
sacred  beauty  of  conjugal  relation  is  it,  that  even 


The  Appetites  of  the  Body.  21 

plants  are  arrayed  in  gorgeous  splendor  at  the  time  of 
their  marriage! 

As  long  as  these  appetites  are  servants  under  the 
control  of  Will  and  Judgment,  they  contribute  in  a 
great  measure  to  the  enjoyment  of  life,  but  when  any 
one  of  them  becomes  master,  it  changes  into  a  passion 
and  leads  towards  mental  and  physical  destruction. 


CHAPTER   III. 
THE   DESIRES   OF  THE   MIND. 

THE  Desires  of  the  Mind  are  analogous  to  those  of 
the  body,  and  like  them  may  be  classified  into, — 

The  Desire  for  Mental  Nourishment. 

For  Activity. 

For  Rest. 

For  Reproduction. 

Animals  possess  them  in  a  rudimentary  form. 

THE  DESIRE  FOR  MENTAL  NOURISHMENT.  This  de- 
sire shows  itself  (a)  as  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  (b) 
as  curiosity;  the  former  representing  the  desire  for 
scientific  knowledge  or  any  higher  information,  the 
latter,  that  for  an  acquaintance  with  the  surroundings 
and  personal  affairs  of  others. 

Like  its  physical  analogue,  this  desire  appears  very 
early,  being  one  of  the  first  manifestations  of  the 
awakening  mind.  Children  eagerly  accept  all  knowl- 
edge presented  to  them,  and  are  gifted  with  acute 
powers  of  observation;  indeed,  we  may  measure  the 
youthfulness  and  vigor  of  the  mind  in  later  years  by 
the  degree  of  its  receptivity  for  new  facts  and  theories. 

A  distinct  form  of  this  instinct  is  the  desire  for  moral 
nourishment,  which  is  generally  a  marked  character- 
istic, especially  of  the  youthful  mind.  All  normal  per- 
sons, young  or  old,  enjoy  hearing  or  reading  of  deeds 
of  heroism,  self-sacrifice,  or  other  virtues. 

The  desire  for  knowledge,  when  not  properly  di- 
22 


The  Desires  of  the  Mind.  23 

reeled  into  useful  channels,  may  become  perverted  into 
idle  curiosity  and  inquisitiveness.  The  mind  that  has 
good  wholesome  work  to  do  will  rarely  waste  valuable 
time  over  other  people's  affairs.  But  when  the  ab- 
sorbing and  important  lines  of  knowledge  are  closed 
against  it,  this  desire  finds  vent  in  a  curious  prying 
into  the  minor  matters  of  life.  The  more  penetrating 
and  thirsty  for  knowledge  a  mind  is,  the  more  capable 
of  following  legitimate  lines  of  investigation  when  the 
opportunities  are  given,  the  more  prying  and  curious 
will  it  become  when  the  avenues  for  obtaining  useful 
information  are  cut  off,  and  it  will  become  so  in  exact 
proportion  to  the  closing  up  of  these  avenues. 

This  is  the  reason  why  curiosity  has  been  more  often 
a  fault  of  woman  than  of  man.  She  was  confined  to 
the  narrow  limits  of  her  household;  her  life  was  con- 
tracted; knowledge  of  an  elevating,  practical  kind,  or 
an  interest  and  an  influence  upon  the  practical  issues 
of  the  day,  were  too  often  forbidden  her  by  public 
opinion.  But  nature  has  endowed  her,  like  her  brother, 
with  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  baffled  in  its  efforts 
to  get  at  the  great,  moving  truths  of  the  world,  it 
turns  into  a  thousand  small,  often  degrading,  channels, 
where  this  noble  desire,  like  a  stream  turned  into  a 
swamp,  spends  itself  in  doing  harm  rather  than  good. 

THE  DESIRE  FOR  MENTAL  ACTIVITY.  Like  the  pre- 
ceding, this  is  manifested  at  an  early  period.  Very 
small  children  like  to  learn.  As  they  grow  older,  they 
enjoy  riddles,  arithmetical  problems,  "  questions  on 
the  map, "  in  geography,  etc.  Moderate  activity  of 
the  mind  is  pleasant  and  exhilarating  to  almost  every 
one,  though  the  direction  it  takes  may  be  a  perverted 
one. 


24  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

This  desire,  combined  with  the  preceding  one,  is 
the  source  of  all  scientific  investigation,  and  its  value 
in  the  progress  of  the  race  cannot  be  overestimated. 

Like  the  preceding,  it  also  has  a  moral  aspect,  and 
can  be  made  of  much  use  in  the  training  of  the  child. 
Who  does  not  enjoy  the  consciousness  of  having  done 
a  good  deed?  The  satisfaction  experienced  when  a 
person  has  stepped  out  of  his  ordinary  course  to  per- 
form some  kind  of  heroic  or  self-sacrificing  act  invites 
to  a  repetition  of  the  act, — i.e.,  to  moral  activity. 

THE  DESIRE  FOR  MENTAL  REST.  This  is  the 
sequence  of  activity  in  a  normal  mind,  but  mental 
rest  need  not  always  mean  entire  mental  inactivity. 
The  mind  often  turns  from  one  employment  to  an- 
other, and  is  rested  thereby,  —  a  fact  which  teachers 
make  use  of  freely  at  the  present  time.  But  as  there 
is  a  physical,  so  there  is  a  mental  indolence,  which 
does  much  harm,  weakening  and  degrading  the  mind, 
and  rendering  it  unfit  for  useful  work.  This  is  fos- 
tered by  mental  idleness,  the  pursuance  of  unworthy 
objects  which  do  not  tax  the  mental  powers, —  above 
all,  by  day  dreaming,  the  idle  conjuring  up  before  the 
mind's  eye  of  images  and  pictures  picked  up  from 
light  literature,  and  of  which  the  first  person  is  always 
the  hero.  Nothing  is  more  harmful  to  the  mind  than 
this  sort  of  dreaming.  Mental  indolence  it  is  which 
leads  people  blindly  to  accept  another's  statement,  es- 
pecially when  presented  with  sufficient  force  and  posi- 
tiveness,  without  investigating  its  truth  or  falsity. 
Mental  indolence  is  not  common  among  children,  but 
it  may  be  produced  by  enforcing  a  too  implicit  ac- 
ceptance of  facts  or  statements  which  they  do  not  un- 
derstand. 


The  Desires  of  the  Mind.  25 

From  a  moral  point  of  view,  there  is  much  of  this 
indolence.  Men  and  women  too  often  accept  the  con- 
clusions and  rules  of  conduct  formulated  for  them  by 
those  "in  authority."  This  is  easy,  and  saves  them  the 
trouble  of  carefully  thinking  out  these  things  for  them- 
selves. This  refers  as  well  to  a  destructive  as  to  a 
constructive  line  of  thought, — i.e.,  as  well  to  those 
who  destroy  or  deny  accepted  doctrines  as  to  those 
who  attempt  to  establish  them.  Ingersoll  has  propor- 
tionally as  many  unthinking  followers,  who  repeat  his 
phrases  and  arguments  in  a  parrot-like  manner,  as  are 
found  in  any  religious  sect  or  denomination. 

THE  DESIRE  FOR  REPRODUCTION.  This  is,  perhaps, 
one  of  the  strongest  of  mental  desires.  The  child,  in 
his  eager  stories,  tries  to  reproduce  what  he  has  seen, 
or  upon  his  slate  attempts  to  picture  the  objects  which 
surround  him;  the  man  copies  what  he  has  seen  others 
do.  Nearly  every  act  of  life  is  a  reproduction  of 
one  that  has  been  performed  before,  either  by  the  in- 
dividual himself,  or  by  some  one  else  from  whom  he  has 
consciously  or  unconsciously  adopted  it.  Imitation 
and  Habit  are  two  strong  faculties  which  grow  from 
this  desire,  and  they  enter  deeply  into  every  life  for 
good  or  for  evil,  to  elevate  or  to  degrade. 

From  a  moral  point  of  view,  this  desire  is  of  the 
widest  importance,  for  Imitation  and  Habit  influence 
the  lives  of  men,  even  against  their  better  judgment. 

IMITATION.  When  a  child  often  hears  of  or  sees  any 
certain  deed  committed,  after  a  time  memory  will 
bring  it  up,  and  imitation  causes  the  involuntary  de- 
sire to  do  the  same  thing.  This  may  occur,  even 
though  the  act  be  a  frightful  one,  which  at  first 


26  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

awakened  only  horror  and  disgust.  Imitation  may, 
in  this  way,  lead  to  actual  deeds  of  violence  and  epi- 
demics of  crime.  In  the  words  of  Pope, — 

"Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen. 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

For  this  reason  the  detailed  relation  of  such  deeds 
in  the  newspapers  —  details  which  are  greedily  de- 
voured by  the  majority  of  uncultivated  minds,  old  and 
young — so  often  develops  criminals  and  breeds  crime. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  action  presented  to  the 
mind  is  such  a  one  as  to  awaken  admiration,  it  will 
equally  stimulate  imitation,  and  so  may  become  the 
source  of  deeds  of  heroism,  self-denial,  and  other 
virtues. 

This  principle  was  understood  and  acted  upon  by 
the  savage  and  barbaric  nations  of  all  times  and  coun- 
tries,—  the  ancient  Scandinavians,  the  Anglo-Saxons, 
the  Greeks,  the  Indians;  in  fact,  all,  so  far  as  known. 
By  singing  the  deeds  of  heroism  and  prowess  per- 
formed by  men  of  bygone  days,  their  bards  sought  to 
incite  the  men  of  their  time  to  courage,  and  to  the  de- 
termination to  equal  or  surpass  the  deeds  of  the  heroes 
of  their  songs.  Some  of  our  most  beautiful  poems 
have  come  to  us  in  this  way,  as  those  of  Homer,  the 
Nibelungen  Lied,  the  Frithjofs  Saga,  and  many  others. 

HABIT.  "  Habits  begin  as  cobwebs  and  end  as  iron 
chains." 

Habit  is  organic  memory,  —  i.e.,  a  memory  residing 
in  or  impression  made  upon  the  various  nerve  cells 
and  fibers,  muscle  fibers,  and  other  tissue  elements 


The  Desires  of  the  Mind.  27 

which  took  part  in  the  performance  of  any  certain  act, 
and  which  makes  every  repetition  of  the  act  easier. 
Habit,  then,  is  a  tendency  to  reperform  acts  once  per- 
formed, either  mental,  moral,  or  physical.  Thus  we 
have  physical  habits,  such  as  awakening  at  a  certain 
hour,  performing  certain  movements,  or  "tricks"  of 
manner,  etc.  We  have  mental  habits.  One  man  will 
take  all  sorts  of  "short-cuts"  in  solving  an  arith- 
metical problem,  another  goes  the  roundabout  way: 
one  man's  habits  of  thought  are  quick,  direct,  inci- 
sive; another's,  slow  and  wandering  from  the  point. 
We  have  moral  habits:  one  person  will  do  as  the  im- 
pulse prompts  him,  and  consider  afterward;  another 
will  not  consider  at  all;  a  third  considers  beforehand, 
"What  will  they  say  if  I  do  this?"  a  fourth,  "Is  it 
right?" 

In  the  performance  of  any,  even  the  simplest,  act, 
various  parts  of  the  brain  and  body  must  work  to- 
gether. The  volitional  centers  in  the  brain  send  their 
orders,  by  certain  association  fibers,  to  the  lower  cen- 
ters controlling  the  various  muscles  to  be  employed, 
and  these  in  turn  transmit  them  by  various  stages  to 
the  latter.  The  performance  of  the  act  will  at  first  be 
comparatively  slow  and  awkward,  but  with  every  rep- 
etition it  becomes  more  and  more  easy,  and  a  path  is 
formed  along  which  each  succeeding  impulse  passes 
with  increasing  facility.  Thus  a  wagon,  passing  for 
the  first  time  over  an  unbroken  prairie,  finds  the 
road  rough  and  uneven,  and  leaves  but  a  faint  trace 
behind;  yet  if  the  same  road  be  traveled  every  day,  it 
soon  becomes  well  marked,  and  is  more  and  more  easily 
followed. 


28  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

How  difficult  are  the  first  steps  in  learning  to  per- 
form on  the  piano;  how  laborious  to  find  the  association 
paths;  how  must  each  finger,  separately,  be  taught  to 
do  its  part;  yet  when  the  habit  is  established,  these 
paths  are  so  well  worn  that  consciousness  becomes  en- 
tirely unnecessary  in  the  performance  of  the  act. 

So  it  is  with  all  habits,  and  fortunate  is  the  person 
who  has  been  trained  from  childhood  to  habits  of 
cheerfulness,  courtesy,  and  diligence.  "  Habits  begin 
as  cobwebs  and  end  as  iron  chains."  The  proverb  ex- 
presses well  the  harm  that  may  be  done  by  the  forma- 
tion of  evil  habits,  and  shows  the  great  importance  of 
habit  in  moral  training.  Yet  habits  may  change  when 
the  surroundings  which  produced  them  change,  and  new 
ones  may  be  formed,  perhaps  the  opposite  of  those 
first  contracted.  Therefore,  mere  good  habits  must  not 
be  confounded  with  true  moral  culture,  which,  founded 
on  principles,  will  never  change,  except  with  the 
honest  conviction  of  the  person. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
ATTRIBUTES   AND   EMOTIONS. 

THE  mind  has  certain  attributes,  and  feels  certain 
emotions.  Among  the  most  important  of  the  former 
are  Reason,  Faith,  and  Imagination. 

REASON  (  Vernunft)  is  here  used  to  denote  the  power 
of  abstract  thought,  and  the  faculty  of  discovering 
the  relations  between  cause  and  effect.  It  lifts  man 
above  nature,  so  that  he  can  study  her  laws  and  make 
her  powers  his  servants.  It  also  enables  him  to  study 
the  faculties  of  the  soul,  and  so  to  adjust  cause  and 
effect  that  the  character  may  become  such  as  his 
judgment  approves  of.  One  of  the  manifestations  of 
reason  is  the  power  of  judgment,  which,  properly 
educated  and  applied,  becomes  a  most  important 
guide  to  a  useful  and  moral  life. 

FAITH  is  here  used  to  denote  that  power  or  faculty 
of  the  human  mind  by  which  it  is  led  to  a  belief  in  a  Su- 
preme Being,  over  and  above  nature,  but  whose  exist- 
ence does  not  admit  of  direct  and  absolute  proof  by  a 
process  of  reasoning.  Its  tenets,  too,  cannot  be  proven 
beyond  a  doubt  by  evidence  perceptible  to  the  senses. 
Individual  opinions  regarding  the  supernatural, 
therefore,  vary  much,  from  a  complete  denial  of  its 
existence  to  a  belief  of  its  intervention  in  the  most 
trivial  occurrences  of  daily  life.  Every  man  has  his 
own  faith,  then,  the  truth  of  which,  however,  he  may 


30  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

not  be  able  to  prove  satisfactorily  to  any  one  else,  as 
he  himself  cannot  be  readily  convinced  of  error. 

IMAGINATION.  This  is  one  of  the  most  important  of 
the  mental  attributes,  as  an  agent,  either  of  advance 
or  retrogression.  Without  imagination  no  great  ad- 
vance in  science  has  ever  been  made,  for  the  imagina- 
tion first  penetrates  into  the  unknown,  divining  the 
possibilities,  then  reason  steps  in  and  verifies  or  dis- 
proves them.  By  acting  upon  the  imagination,  the 
child  and  the  man  may  each  be  aroused  to  deeds 
of  which  he  is  ordinarily  incapable, — deeds  which 
may  either  elevate  him  above  his  usual  self  or  de- 
grade him  below  it.  Excitation  of  this  faculty  alone, 
without  the  concomitant  action  of  reason  and 
judgment,  is  harmful,  and  causes  one  of  the  highest 
faculties  of  the  human  mind  to  degenerate  into 
idle  phantasy. 

When  the  unguided  imagination  is  allowed  to  dwell 
upon  low  subjects,  it  becomes  the  cause  of  mental 
degradation,  and  often  the  source  of  evil  habits.  The 
danger  of  sensational  literature  lies  greatly  in  this 
power  it  possesses  of  exciting  the  imagination  by  the 
impure  images  it  calls  up.  This  may  also  occur  with 
literature  intended  only  for  instructive  purposes, 
when  the  mind  is  poorly  balanced. 

Important  among  the  emotions  are,  Selfishness, 
Love,  Fear. 

SELFISHNESS,  or  Love  of  Self,  is  by  nature  one  of  the 
mainsprings  of  man's  actions.  Every  man  is  to  him- 
self the  center  around  which  the  whole  universe  re- 
volves. As  every  man  has  not  only  his  own  zenith, 
which,  diverging  from  every  other  man's,  reaches  into 


Attributes  and  Emotions.  31 

infinity,  but  also  his  own  nadir,  which  unites  him  at 
the  center  of  the  earth  with  all  his  fellow-men,  so  he  has 
an  inner  life,  all  his  own,  which  never  does  and  never 
can  become  merged  into  another's,  besides,  also,  a 
deep-rooted  instinct  which  binds  him  to  his  fellow- 
creatures. 

The  first  natural  impulse  of  man,  springing  from 
selfishness,  is  to  obtain  for  himself  whatever  he  de- 
sires. A  baby  attempts  to  put  into  its  mouth  every- 
thing that  it  covets,  instinctively  trying  thus  to  make 
it  its  own,  until  it  learns  by  experience  that  that  re- 
ceptacle is  too  small  for  such  a  purpose.  Few  healthy 
babies  are  willing  to  give  up  what  they  want,  but  they 
fight  for  it  with  voice  and  fist.  Under  careful 
training,  a  child  may  learn  to  give  up  to  others,  and 
often  without  a  struggle,  as  it  learns  to  walk  and 
speak,  parents  perhaps  not  even  realizing  what  a  great 
lesson  they  have  taught.  When  a  child  is  three  or  four 
years  old  it  is  usually  more  generous,  and  willing  to 
share  with  its  friends  the  gifts  love  has  bestowed.  It 
has  learned  to  love  others,  and  the  desire  to  give  them 
pleasure  restrains  its  selfish  impulses;  but  they  appear 
again  in  the  childish  craving  for  approbation  and 
praise  for  its  generosity. 

When  selfishness  alone  is  the  source  of  man's  in- 
stincts, they  are  of  a  low  order.  Covetousness, 
Avarice,  Revenge,  Pride,  Envy,  Hatred,  Vanity,  are 
some  of  its  children.  Selfishness  has  its  proper  place 
in  the  human  economy,  like  every  other  natural  im- 
pulse, but  it  must  be  kept  within  bounds  or  it  will 
mar  the  whole  character. 

LOVE.      This  is  here  used   to  denote   the  kindly 


32  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

feelings  which  man  entertains  toward  his  fellow-men, 
without  thought  of  any  selfish  gratification.  Love  is 
the  greatest  antagonist  of  selfishness,  counteracting  its 
desires  and  neutralizing  its  effects.  It  is  the  source  of 
filial  affection,  friendship,  patriotism,  kindness,  gene- 
rosity, patience,  and  all  kindred  virtues;  it  should  be 
the  foundation  upon  which  the  relations  of  the  family, 
of  society,  and  of  the  state  are  based. 

Love  alone,  however,  untempered  by  a  wholesome 
amount  of  selfishness,  may  make  the  individual  as 
unjust  to  himself  as  selfishness,  unrestrained  by  love, 
makes  him  towards  others.  Selfishness  contracts  the 
whole  universe  into  the  circle  of  its  own  narrow  de- 
sires, while  love  widens  the  circle  of  its  sympathies 
to  take  in  the  world.  It  is  best  that  both  be  united  in 
due  proportion. 

FEAR.  As  a  guard  between  the  physical  and  men- 
tal attributes  stands  the  powerful  instinct  of  self- 
preservation,  and  its  representative  among  the  feelings, 
Fear.  It  is  this  instinct  which  tends  to  preserve  the 
union  between  body  and  soul,  causing  them  to  shrink 
from  dissolution,  which  means  death.  Through  fear, 
man  flies  instinctively  from  threatening  danger.  Phys- 
ical fear,  being  a  horror  of  death,  becomes  preserva- 
tive of  life,  and  few  living  creatures,  men  or  animals, 
would  reach  old  age,  were  they  without  this  useful 
instinct.  It  has,  therefore,  a  well-defined  place  in  the 
economy  of  nature,  and  it  is  man's  duty  to  listen  to 
its  warnings  and  obey  its  impulses  as  controlled  by 
will  and  judgment,  but  these  should  not  be  over- 
powering, lest  cowardice  be  the  result. 

From  a  moral  aspect,  fear  is  at  the  root  of  much 


Attributes  and  Emotions.  33 

untruthfulness  of  word  and  deed.  Fear  of  death  and 
of  danger,  of  losing  property  and  friends,  of  being 
understood  or  misunderstood,  may  be  strong,  and  to 
avoid  the  things  feared,  man  resorts  to  subterfuges 
and  falsehoods  of  which  he  is  ashamed.  To  justify 
these,  he  gives  them  other  names,  calling  cowardice, 
prudence;  hypocrisy,  kindness;  etc.  But  fear,  edu- 
cated,  ennobled,  and  brought  under  the  control  of  the 
will,  becomes  the  safeguard  of  conscience  by  producing 
a  horror  of  any  wrong  which  might  lead  toward  moral 
death, — the  loss  of  honor  and  self-respect. 

These,  then,  are  the  most  important  principles 
which  make  up  man's  economy,  —  a  little  common- 
wealth in  itself,  with  ruler  and  subjects  of  different 
degrees. 

Chief  executive  is  the  Will.  He  is  the  King,  in 
whom  all  responsibility  centers,  and  Judgment  sits  as 
Queen  by  his  side,  to  guide  and  direct  him.  Counsel- 
ors are  Love,  Conscience,  and  Reason,  to  whom  King 
and  Queen  may  turn  in  perplexing  cases.  The  sub- 
jects are  the  appetites  and  desires  of  body  and  mind. 
These  must  have  in  Selfishness  a  representative  at 
Court,  but  he  should  be  kept  in  the  background,  to 
be  considered,  but  rarely  to  become  prominent. 

Such  is  the  kingdom  of  man,  ordered  as  it  should  be. 

Unfortunately,  the  Will  is  often  weak,  the  Judg- 
ment uncertain.  Too  often  the  Queen's  calm  voice  is 
drowned  in  the  clamor  of  passions  and  appetites.  Too 
often  the  King,  unheeding  those  in  high  positions, 
lends  his  ear  to  the  lowest,  but  also  the  most  fawning, 
of  his  counselors,  Selfishness,  and  allows  first  one  and 
then  the  other  of  his  constituents  to  usurp  the  kingly 


34  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

power,  while  he  sits  idly  by  on  his  throne,  or  even  lends 
the  sanction  of  his  authority  to  the  rebellious  outbreak. 
The  object  of  all  moral  culture  is  to  train  Will  and 
Judgment  for  the  high  positions,  that  they  may  be 
able  to  keep  their  subjects  under  control,  in  and  of 
themselves,  without  outside  help;  for  the  rulers  who 
depend  on  help  from  without  to  govern  their  own 
kingdom  sit  on  tottering  thrones,  and  are  at  the 
mercy  of  changing  circumstances.  Only  those  who  in 
themselves  have  the  power  of  perfect  control  can 
never  be  dethroned. 


CHAPTER   V. 
MENTAL  AND   MORAL   TRAINING. 

EVERY  man  has  a  physical,  a  mental,  and  a  moral 
nature,  but  these  differ  widely  in  the  cultivation  and 
prominence  they  should  receive.  The  physical  nature 
should  have  its  due  consideration  and  training,  but 
its  appetites  should  never  rise  to  the  position  of  de- 
manding absorbing  attention;  nor  is  excess  of  refine- 
ment of  these  appetites  of  special  benefit  to  the  body, 
but  quite  often  the  reverse.  Thus  the  structure  of  the 
body  will  be  the  same  in  the  millionaire  who  dines  at 
Delmonico's  on  turtle  soup  and  pate  de  fois  gras,  and 
in  the  workman  who  sits  by  the  roadside  eating  his 
bread  and  cheese;  provided  both  meals  contain  the 
necessary  nutriment,  and  provided  in  both  cases  the 
appetite  is  restrained  within  the  proper  limits, — pro- 
visions which  are  more  likely  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  case 
of  the  workman  than  in  that  of  the  millionaire. 

From  both  meals  nature  will  elaborate  the  material 
necessary  for  building  up  the  tissues  of  the  body. 

But  the  mental,  and  still  more  the  moral,  nature 
with  which  we  are  here  specially  concerned  varies 
much  with  the  nature  of  the  food  received.  A  person 
with  an  active,  inquiring  mind  may  become  an  ardent 
seeker  after  or  a  disseminator  of  useful  knowledge,  or 
an  inveterate  gossip,  according  to  his  opportunities  for 
acquiring  information.  A  person  with  an  enthusiastic, 
imaginative  mind  may  become  a  power  for  good  in 

35 


36  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

his  community  by  being  taught  to  appreciate  and  ad- 
mire the  characteristics  of  such  persons  as  George 
Washington,  Sister  Dora,  or  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson, 
or  he  may  become  a  dangerous  criminal  by  feeding 
upon  accounts  of  the  exploits  of  the  heroes  of  the 
blood-and-thunder  literature  of  the  day,  and  trying  to 
imitate  them. 

What  a  gain,  then,  in  every  sense,  is  not  moral  cul- 
ture to  the  individual?  What  a  difference  is  there 
not  between  the  well-developed  and  controlled  faculties 
of  the  morally  refined,  and  the  rude  selfishness  of  a 
morally  unrefined  character?  Of  course,  neither  out- 
ward polish  nor  mere  intellectual  training  is  here  re- 
ferred to,  but  true  moral  culture,  which  means  a  very 
different  thing.  Abraham  Lincoln,  even  while  a  rude 
woodchopper,  had  a  noble  nature,  for  he  strove  after 
the  best  and  highest,  while  George  IV,  though  because 
of  his  polished  manners  styled  the  "  first  gentleman  of 
Europe, "  at  heart  was  coarse  and  unrefined. 

The  education  and  advance  of  the  mental  nature 
differ  widely  from  those  of  the  moral.  Science  has 
laws  which  can  be  learned,  rules  which  can  be  fol- 
lowed. By  the  aid  of  definite  rules  in  mathematics, 
every  problem  in  that  science  may  be  solved,  even 
by  those  who  never,  of  themselves,  could  have  dis- 
covered the  laws  or  formulated  the  rules  by  which 
the  work  is  done.  So  men  of  the  present  day  can 
appropriate  to  their  own  use  the  scientific  discoveries 
of  bygone  ages  in  every  path  of  intellectual  advance- 
ment. 

This,  however,  is  not  true,  in  the  same  sense,  of  moral 
education.  A  man  may  have  the  best  instruction  re- 


Mental  and  Moral  Training.  37 

garding  his  moral  duties,  may  know  well  the  conse- 
quences of  wrong-doing,  and  still  lack  the  power,  or 
even  the  will,  to  do  right.  These  must  be  separately 
developed  in  each  person;  every  one  must,  for  himself, 
learn  to  avoid  the  pitfalls  that  await  him;  every  one, 
anew,  must  learn  to  control  the  appetites  and  desires; 
and  the  knowledge  that  the  same  education  has  been 
gained,  that  the  same  pitfalls  have  been  avoided,  that 
the  same  passions  have  been  controlled,  by  thousands 
of  others  before  him  will  only  slightly  aid  him  in  his 
moral  career. 

The  scientific  explorer,  who,  by  investigation,  opens 
up  new  fields  of  research  to  the  inquiring  mind,  may 
be  compared  to  the  pioneer,  who,  traveling  the  paths 
discovered  by  former  explorers,  enters  the  wilderness 
of  unexplained  facts  and  undemonstrated  theories. 
Some  of  these  he  may  explain,  clearing  up  the  myste- 
ries which  surrounded  them,  so  that  those  who  follow 
him,  finding  the  obstructions  removed,  can,  in  their 
turn,  approach  new  problems,  which,  the  farther  they 
advance,  the  loftier  arise. 

The  moral  reformer,  on  the  other  hand,  is  like  the 
leader  of  a  fleet  of  ships,  which,  turned  from  its 
course  by  the  storms  of  passions,  and  tossed  by  the 
waves  of  feeling,  is  trying  to  gain  the  haven  of  noble 
manhood.  The  port  is  not  unknown,  but  no  definite 
path  leading  to  it  can  be  pointed  out.  Each  ship 
must  find  its  own  course,  fight  its  own  battles  with 
wind  and  wave;  and  it  depends  upon  the  skill  and 
wisdom  of  its  master,  Will,  whether  it  reach  the  port 
in  safety,  or  perish  on  the  high  seas.  The  leader  can 
point  out  to  the  others  how  to  escape  the  storm,  quiet 


38  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

the  waves,  and  avoid  the  dangers  lurking  in  the  deep; 
he  can  supply  a  chart,  that  those  who  have  strayed 
from  the  right  course  may  return  to  it;  but  that  is  all 
he  can  do.  He  cannot  point  out  a  safe  and  sure  path 
which  every  one  may  follow. 

This  is  the  great  difference  between  mental  and  moral 
progress.  Intellectually,  the  human  race  can  forever 
advance,  until  Science  rm,y  reach  a  height  of  which 
the  present  generation  has  no  conception;  morally, 
every  person  must  go  over  the  same  ground,  overcome 
the  same  temptations,  and  yet  can  reach  only  the  same 
heights  which  noble  men  have  attained  before. 

The  field  of  scientific  research  only  a  few  gifted  need 
enter;  the  rest  can  use  what  these  discover:  but  the 
moral  problems  each  individual  must  solve  for  himself, 
and  according  to  his  success  does  he  sink  or  rise  in 
the  scale  of  humanity. 

It  does  not  follow  from  the  above  that  man  cannot 
influence  man  in  his  moral  nature;  indeed,  the  moral 
influence  which  every  one  exerts  upon  his  neighbors 
for  good  or  evil,  happiness  or  unhappiness,  is  very 
great.  Taking  only  the  item  of  happiness, — what  a 
paradise  would  not  this  world  be,  if  every  one  were 
guided  in  his  actions  by  the  principles  of  right;  if  no 
one  yielded  to  the  promptings  of  passion  or  self-love, 
which  bring  so  much  unhappiness  into  human  lives. 

It  is  comparatively  easy  to  teach  a  young  person 
what  is  right  or  wrong  in  general.  It  is  quite  a  differ- 
ent thing  to  prove  to  him  in  a  given  case,  where  his 
interests  are  concerned,  that  he  is  in  the  wrong.  Even 
this  admitted,  it  is  still  more  difficult  to  induce  him 


Mental  and  Moral  Training.  39 

to  act  according  to  the  dictates  of  his  unwilling  con- 
science. 

There  is  a  defect  of  vision  in  which  the  retina  loses 
its  sensibility  to  light  upon  one  side.  The  majority  of 
people  suffer  from  a  similar  defect  of  moral  vision  in 
varying  degrees.  Partially  blinded  by  selfishness, 
they  see  only  one  side— their  own  side  —  of  every 
question  in  which  they  are  personally  interested.  It 
takes  a  long  struggle  with  the  lower  impulses  of  man's 
nature  to  enable  him  to  overcome  this  mental  hemi- 
opia. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
MORALITY  IN   SCHOOL. 

CLASSIFICATION.  Morality  teaches  man's  duty  to 
himself  and  to  his  fellow-men;  it  is  therefore  of  para- 
mount importance  to  the  well-being  of  the  state  that 
all  its  citizens  shall  be  carefully  and  systematically 
instructed  in  it.  Therefore  the  state  has  the  right, 
and  it  is  its  duty,  to  make  Morality  one  of  the  com- 
pulsory branches  of  study  in  the  public  schools, 
especially  as  it  is  often  neglected,  or  worse  than 
neglected,  in  the  home  training  of  the  child. 

At  the  present  time  a  child  is  graded  in  the  public 
schools  almost  exclusively  according  to  his  intellectual 
acquirements.  He  recognizes  that  that  kind  of  knowl- 
edge alone  is  made  the  test  of  his  advancement,  and 
concludes  that  it  alone  is  of  practical  importance.  He 
sees  that  if  his  school  deportment  is  not  altogether  too 
bad  (and  in  many  schools  even  this  is  not  considered  in 
grading  a  child)  he  will  be  placed  at  no  particular 
disadvantage  by  having  a  bad  moral  character;  for 
though  the  teacher  may  talk  of  the  beauty  and  impor- 
tance of  virtue,  he  belies  his  own  expressed  convictions 
by  giving  to  a  child's  moral  education  no  official 
weight  or  recognition. 

The  pupil  sees  that  the  morally  well-trained  boy 
has  no  advantage  over  the  vicious  one,  which  is  offi- 
cially recognized  in  the  grading  or  other  standing 
given  him;  and  as  a  child,  unbiased  by  the  considera- 

40 


Morality  in  School.  41 

tion  of  expediencies,  is  often  an  acute  logician,  he  will 
quite  naturally  conclude  that,  after  all,  this  talk  about 
the  necessity  of  virtue  and  morality  is  mere  talk,  and 
not  to  be  accepted  as  a  practical  truth. 

After  a  teacher  has  given  his  scholars  many  glowing 
descriptions  of  the  beauty  of  noble  lives,  has  con- 
vinced them  that  to  be  good  is  of  greater  importance 
than  any  mere  intellectual  attainments,  has  awakened 
in  them  a  desire  to  carry  out  the  noble  precepts  he  has 
placed  before  them,  then  they  naturally  feel  that  he 
ought  to  carry  these  principles  into  the  classification 
of  his  school.  A  boy,  somewhat  dull,  but  with  a 
sturdy  purpose  to  do  right,  will  feel  bitterly  disap- 
pointed when  some  brighter  boy,  though  he  may  be 
disobedient  and  even  thoroughly  immoral,  is  advanced 
before  him.  He  does  not  exactly  understand  how 
nor  where,  but  he  knows  that  somehow,  somewhere, 
there  is  injustice  done  him;  that  the  teacher's  claims 
regarding  the  importance  of  a  high  moral  standing, 
and  his  action  in  giving  all  official  and  public  recog- 
nition and  advancement  to  the  boy  of  low  moral 
standing,  do  not  exactly  tally. 

If  good  moral  character  is  as  important  as  good  in- 
tellectual work,  —  and  for  the  welfare  of  the  nation  as 
well  as  the  individual  it  is  far  more  so,  —  then  this 
importance  should  be  thoroughly  impressed  upon  the 
child's  mind,  by  making  the  moral  as  well  as  the 
intellectual  standing  a  basis  of  classification.  Half 
the  force  of  the  moral  teaching  is  lost  when  high  moral 
standing  is  unrecognized,  and  children  of  all  kinds, 
the  vicious  and  the  pure,  are  classified  alike,  and  only 
by  their  intellectual  attainments. 


42  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

To  remedy  this  evil,  there  should  be  instituted,  in 
schools  f  a  classification  according  to  the  moral  stand- 
ing of  the  child,  which  might  be  made  very  prominent, 
—  a  low  grade  in  this  being  accounted  particularly  dis- 
graceful, in  order  to  impress  upon  the  childish  mind 
the  high  esteem  in  which  morality  is  held.  Such  im- 
pressions, received  in  childhood,  generally  remain,  for 
good  or  harm,  through  life. 

In  the  periodical  reports  to  the  parents,  this  "moral 
class "  should  be  noted,  aside  from  mere  deportment, 
and  its  meaning  explained,  so  that  the  attention  of 
parents,  too,  may  be  directed  to  this  subject.  Deport- 
ment, which  is  simply  school  behavior,  should  not  be 
confounded  with  true  Morality,  of  which  it  forms  only 
a  very  small  part.  Indeed,  it  is  quite  conceivable 
that  the  sweetest,  purest  children,  morally,  may  be  so 
active,  so  full  of  life  and  imagination,  that  their  de- 
portment in  school  is  far  from  perfect.  It  will  be  quite 
right  and  just,  therefore,  to  classify  deportment  with 
the  intellectual  rather  than  with  the  moral  attainments, 
unless  moral  questions,  too,  are  involved.  It  is  need- 
less to  add  that  the  two  systems  of  classification — 
that  on  the  moral  and  that  on  the  intellectual  basis  — 
must  be  entirely  separate  and  distinct;  a  child  may 
advance  in  one  and  fall  behind  in  the  other,  but  the 
moral  should  ever  be  ranked  as  the  higher. 

The  following  methods  of  classification  will  be  found 
just  and  easily  carried  out:  — 

There  might  be  three  Moral  Classes, — First,  Second, 
and  Third. 

THE  FIRST  CLASS.  This  should  contain  all  well- 
behaved  children  who  try  to  do  right.  Children  in 


Morality  in  School.  43 

this  class  should  be  exempt  from  corporal  punishment, 
and  should  have  such  other  privileges  as  may  be  prac- 
ticable. Opportunity  might  often  be  taken  to  show 
confidence  in  and  respect  for  their  trustworthiness. 

THE  SECOND  CLASS.  A  child  loses  its  position  in 
the  first  class  and  is  transferred  to  the  second  class 
for  willful  disobedience,  grave  misdemeanor,  such  as 
lying  or  stealing,  or  for  cruelty  and  viciousness.  Chil- 
dren in  this  class  are  subject  to  corporal  punishment 
at  the  discretion  of  the  teacher.  The  teacher  should 
also  show  them  that  he  can  no  longer  trust  and  confide 
in  them  as  he  did  before;  that  they  have  forfeited  this 
respect,  since  they  are  no  longer  worthy  of  it,  Of  this 
degradation  in  the  child's  standing  the  parents  must 
be  immediately  notified,  that  they  may  know  that  he 
is  now  liable  to  other  treatment  from  that  first  ac- 
corded to  him. 

The  children  of  these  two  classes  are  permitted  to 
associate  freely  with  each  other  during  play  hours. 

THE  THIKD  CLASS.  Once  in  a  while  a  child  is  found 
so  impure  that  its  influence  is  like  that  of  the  upas 
tree,  poisoning  every  healthy,  living  mind  with  which 
it  is  brought  into  contact.  Such  a  one  should  be 
placed  in  the  Third  Class.  A  child  in  this  class  should 
not  be  allowed  to  sit  among  other  children,  but  should 
be  near  and  under  the  direct  supervision  of  the 
teacher  during  school  hours.  He  should  have  his  re- 
cesses alone,  should  not  be  dismissed  until  all  the 
others  are  well  gone,  and  before  school  hours  should 
be  brought  in  and  kept  from  contact  with  the  other 
children  as  soon  as  he  appears  near  the  school  premises. 

In  this  way  the  power  of  such  a  child  to  do  mischief 


44  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

in  Bchool  would  be  reduced  to  a  minimum,  and  he  and 
his  companions  would  realize  the  degrading  effects  of 
the  vice  of  impurity.  In  this  way,  too,  such  a  child 
would  be  made  even  less  dangerous  in  school  than  out 
of  it,  and  out  of  school  hours  parents  must  take  upon 
themselves  the  responsibility  for  the  care  of  their 
children. 

As  all  punishment  should  be  reformatory,  the  classi- 
fication should  not  hold  good  from  one  grade  into  the 
next  indefinitely,  as  has  been  the  mistaken  method  in 
some  European  schools;  neither  should  a  child  be  too 
easily  promoted  from  a  lower  moral  class  into  a  higher 
at  the  discretion  of  a  perhaps  too  tender-hearted 
teacher.  Once  a  child  has  fallen  from  the  first  class, 
it  must  remain  where  it  has  been  justly  placed,  until 
it  advances  a  grade  in  school,  when  it  again  enters  the 
first  class. 

One  important  factor  in  the  widespread  youthful  im- 
morality of  the  present  day  is  found  in  the  promiscuous 
intermingling,  without  regulation  or  restraint,  of  all 
kinds  of  children  —  the  good,  the  indifferent,  and  the 
bad  —  in  the  public  schools.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  thoughtful  parents  hesitate  to  send  their  care- 
fully trained  child  to  a  public  school,  where  its  seat- 
mate  may  teach  it  more  harm  in  a  day  than  they 
could  eradicate  in  a  year  if  they  knew  of  it;  and  the 
worst  is,  that  they  generally  do  not  know  of  it,  for  the 
canker  is  in  the  heart  of  the  bud,  eating  out  its  beauty 
and  usefulness,  while  the  outside  remains  fair  and 
promising. 

Yet  the  association  of  children  of  all  classes  and 
conditions  in  life  with  each  other  is  highly  beneficial 


Morality  in  School.  45 

to  all,  promoting  a  truly  republican  spirit  among 
them,  and  abolishing  all  pride  of  station  or  of 
snobbery.  It  were  a  pity  that  a  child  should  be 
deprived  of  this  useful  contact  with  many  others 
equally  good,  in  order  that  it  may  not  be  demoralized 
by  perhaps  the  only  one  thoroughly  bad  child  in  a 
school.  By  such  a  system  of  moral  classification  as 
outlined  above,  justly  and  strictly  carried  out,  this 
evil  could  be  remedied  so  that  the  good  effect  of  the 
public  school  upon  all  children  would  not  be  lost,  and 
that  the  bad  child,  while  rendered  harmless,  may  also 
be  benefited. 

If  such  a  system  of  classification  were  introduced, 
parents  could  no  longer  claim  that  their  children  were 
innocently  whipped,  for  their  rank  in  the  second  or 
third  class  would  sufficiently  characterize  them;  nor 
could  they  justify  them  by  the  baleful  adage,  "  Boys 
will  be  boys, "  for  they  would  find  plenty  of  manly, 
honest  boys  in  the  first  class. 

Among  the  children  themselves,  rowdyism  would 
fall  into  disrepute,  and  a  healthy  feeling  of  pride  in 
being  above  the  possibility  of  being  whipped  would 
be  created.  Besides,  this  system  would  often  obviate 
the  necessity,  now  sometimes  unavoidable  for  the 
moral  protection  of  the  rest,  of  expelling  a  child  from 
sohool.  Many  an  unruly  child  could  be  subdued  in 
this  way,  who,  perhaps,  would  yield  to  no  other 
punishment.  Moreover,  when  such  a  one  yielded  it 
w-ould  not  only  be  an  outward  yielding  to  the  force  of 
circumstances,  but  would  also  be  a  true  change  of 
character.  To  expel  a  child  from  school  is  one  of  the 
greatest  injuries  that  can  be  done  to  it.  Tho  loss 


46  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

will  bo  greatest  in  later  life,  when  repentance  is  unvail- 
ing  to  right  the  evil;  for  it  is  impossible  to  replace  to 
the  man  that  which  he  lost  through  lack  of  early 
training. 


CHAPTER   VII. 
LOVE   AND    FEAR. 

THE  principal  motive  power  controlling  men's  ac- 
tions are  Love  and  Fear,  and  they  are  so  indissolubly 
itnited  that  they  must  be  considered  together.  Love 
for  self  and  selfish  gratifications,  for  wealth,  for  ap- 
probation, for  friends,  for  country,  for  principles,  for 
right;  and  fear  of  physical  discomforts,  of  pecuniary 
losses,  of  the  law,  of  the  verdict  of  men  or  near  friends, 
above  all,  fear  of  the  verdict  of  man's  own  conscience, 
—  these,  in  progressing  order,  are  the  impelling  and 
restraining  forces  of  man's  nature. 

The  lowest  love  is  that  for  physical  well-being  and 
the  gratification  of  physical  desires;  the  most  abject 
fear  is  that  based  upon  that  love,  and  which  appears 
when  these  possessions  are  endangered.  This  fear  is 
the  lowest  restraining,  as  the  love  from  which  it 
springs  is  the  lowest  impelling,  force  of  man's  nature, 
and  when  these  motives  alone  are  called  into  action,  a 
degraded  standard  of  morality  will  result. 

Thus  a  man  of  low  moral  character  will  be  prevented 
from  committing  crime  by  the  fear  of  the  physical 
consequences  which  an  indignant  community  will 
visit  upon  him.  A  man  of  higher  stamp  will  refrain 
from  committing  a  dishonorable  deed,  even  though  the 
law  could  not  reach  him,  because  he  loves  the  appro- 
bation of  the  world  and  fears  to  lose  its  good  opinion 
and  respect;  but  this  same  man  may  be  induced  to 

47 


48  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

forsake  an  unpopular  right,  even  against  his  better 
judgment,  when  to  espouse  it  will  bring  upon  him 
the  censure  or  ridicule  of  the  world  or  of  his  friends. 
Finally,  love  of  honor  and  of  self-respect,  and  fear  of 
losing  these,  —  fear  of  the  adverse  verdict  of  his  own 
conscience, — will  keep  the  man  of  high  moral  char- 
acter from  wrong,  and  will  impel  him  to  do  right, 
even  against  the  opinions  of  others. 

The  restrained  criminal  loves  above  all  things  life, 
liberty,  physical  comforts,  and  fears  above  all  things 
their  loss,  to  a  less  extent  than  that  of  the  respect  of 
his  fellow-men.  As  a  man  rises  in  the  moral  scale, 
other  things  will  become  more  valuable  in  his  sight 
than  these,  such  as  the  esteem  and  approbation  of 
men,  and  he  will  often  give  up  life  itself  to  preserve 
these.  Perhaps  no  other  love  is  so  widely  distributed 
and  so  widespread  in  its  effects  as  this.  From  the 
cradle  to  the  grave,  man  is  swayed  by  the  opinions  of 
others,  above  all,  by  the  desire  that  they  may  think 
well  of  him.  Even  the  lowest  criminal  usually  has 
some  one  whose  good  opinion  he  wishes  to  retain, 
whose  praise  he  values,  though  this  person  is  often 
only  some  other  criminal  greater  and  bolder  than  him- 
self, whose  influence  is  not  calculated  to  elevate  him; 
or  he  may  try  to  win  the  admiration  of  the  multitude 
by  appearing  as  a  boastful  hero  to  the  last. 

The  man  of  the  highest  moral  character  is  he  whose 
most  valued  possession  is  contained  within  himself,  who 
above  all  things  desires  to  have  and  to  keep  his  own 
approbation  and  respect,  and  who  is  restrained  from 
wrong-doing  by  the  fear  of  losing  these.  This  is  not 
only  the  highest,  but  is  also  by  far  the  most  effectual, 


Love  and  Fear.  49 

motive  which  can  induce  a  man  to  do  right.  The 
criminal  may  hope  to  escape  detection  and  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  law;  the  man  who  seeks  in  the  appro- 
bation of  others  his  highest  aim  may  yield  to 
temptation  if  he  knows  no  one  will  learn  of  it;  but 
the  man  who  dreads,  above  all  things,  the  judgment 
which  his  own  conscience  will  pronounce  against  him 
can  never  hope  to  escape  or  silence  this  searching  in- 
quisitor, and  so  is  more  safe  than  any  other  man 
against  temptation. 

Love  and  fear,  then,  as  they  exist  in  every  individ- 
ual, should  be  perfected;  their  lower  manifestations 
should  be  modified,  and  the  higher  motive  should  be 
added  to  them.  This  must  be  the  aim  in  training  a 
child. 

The  love  of  approbation  may  be  well  used  in  the 
training  of  a  child,  to  prevent  wrong-doing  before  Con- 
science, Will,  and  Judgment  are  strong  enough  to  be 
controlling  forces.  While  the  desire  to  be  approved  by 
others  is  not  the  highest  incentive  to  do  right,  it  is  a 
higher  one  than  mere  physical  fear,  and  has  its  right- 
ful place.  Through  this,  a  child  may  be  led  to  do 
right,  until  it  has  learned  to  love  right  for  itself. 

But  love  of  approbation,  which  flows  from  vanity, 
needs  to  be  carefully  watched,  lest  it  become  an  over- 
mastering passion,  carrying  all  before  it,  and  through 
fear  of  ridicule  or  the  opinions  of  others  lead  to  the 
commission  of  deeds  which  the  conscience  strongly 
condemns. 

When  the  approbation  desired  is  that  of  a  loved  one, 
then  it  becomes  the  expression  of  a  true  affection,  and 
proportionately  a  nobler  feeling  than  that  springing 


50  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

from  vanity.  This  gives  the  person  beloved  a  strong 
influence,  which,  if  exerted  in  the  direction  of  right, 
will  be  beneficial.  It  becomes  dangerous  when  it  is 
exerted  for  wrong,  especially  when  the  faculties  are 
undeveloped,  and  may  lead  to  evil,  and  even  to  the 
commission  of  crimes.  History,  fiction,  and  daily  life 
are  full  of  examples  of  wrong  committed  for  the  sake 
of  retaining  or  gaining  the  love  and  approbation  of  a 
person,  though  everything  else  man  values  were  sac- 
rificed. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  point  cannot  be  too 
often  repeated,  too  urgently  insisted  upon,  that  while 
strong,  true,  human  love  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
as  it  is  one  of  the  most  elevating  of  emotions,  yet  the 
love  of  right  should  be  stronger  and  deeper  than  this; 
lest,  if  human  love  be  greater,  it  become  the  control- 
ling force  of  a  man,  and  leave  him  weak  to  cope  with 
temptations  which  are  reinforced  by  this  love. 

Since  love  of  right  is  so  important  in  the  production 
of  a  strong  moral  character,  it  must  be  the  first  aim  of 
moral  training  to  instill  this  love. 

To  do  this,  it  is  important  that  the  teacher  himself 
shall  love  the  right.  Not  only  must  he  commit  no 
immoral  act,  but  he  must  at  all  times  earnestly  strive 
to  become  nobler  and  better.  Only  such  a  one  can 
awaken  in  his  pupils  an  earnest  desire  and  love  for 
right.  The  higher  the  teacher's  moral  standard,  the 
higher  the  ideal  to  which  he  aspires,  the  further  will 
he  be  able  to  lead  his  pupils  on  the  road  to  noble  man- 
hood and  womanhood.  No  one  of  low  moral  concep- 
tions should  ever  be  chosen  as  an  instructor  of  youth. 

In  order  that  a  child  may  learn  to  love  the  right, 


Love  and  Fear.  51 

this  must  constantly  be  brought  before  him  in  an  ideal 
form  as  the  most  important  thing  to  be  sought  after. 

Every  child  early  forms  an  ideal  which  embodies  all 
that  it  considers  most  desirable  and  worthy  of  admira- 
tion ;  and  it  is  a  precious  gift  to  humanity  that  these 
first  ideals  are  generally  the  parents. 

"  This  is  true,  for  my  mother  says  so";  "  My  father 
does  it,  so  it  is  right";  even  the  little  boy's  direction 
to  the  barber,  "  Cut  my  hair  like  my  papa's,  with  a 
hole  in  the  middle,"  —  are  expressions  of  a  beautiful, 
simple  faith  in  the  perfection  of  the  parent,  which 
happily  is  not  always  lost  with  childhood. 

When  children  go  to  school,  quite  another  type  of 
excellence  is  set  up  by  their  playmates  for  their  ad- 
miration. "  He  is  a  brick,  you  bet!  he  never  squeals"; 
or, "  Mary  is  too  smart  to  be  found  out  when  she  plays 
with  her  paper  dolls  or  writes  notes," — these  and  simi- 
lar expressions  may  for  the  time  exert  a  stronger  influ- 
ence upon  the  child  than  the  admonitions  of  the  par- 
ents, who  are  supposed  not  to  know  how  little  boys  and 
girls  feel,  nor  what  is  best  for  them. 

The  ideals  that  a  child  has,  it  copies,  and  so  much 
of  its  character  is  formed;  for  every  one  resembles  to 
a  greater  or  a  less  extent  his  ideal.  The  boy  who  sees 
in  a  Gould  or  a  Vanderbilt  the  highest  type  of  man- 
hood will  strive  to  make  money  by  every  means  in 
his  power  when  he  arrives  at  man's  estate.  The  boy 
or  girl  whose  mind  is  inflamed  by  the  exploits  of  a 
Roving  Tom  or  a  Prairie  Nell  will  run  away  with  a 
revolver  or  a  knife,  thinking  to  conquer  the  world. 
The  girl  whose  brain  is  filled  with  the  descriptions  of 
the  beauties  of  person  and  toilet  of  some  heroine  of 


52  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

fiction  will  deck  herself  out  with  ribbons  or  stand  hours 
before  the  glass  curling  her  hair,  rolling  her  eyes,  or 
trying  to  manage  a  "train"  of  her  mother's  skirts.  Or 
where  the  parent,  the  teacher,  or  some  esteemed  friend 
is  the  ideal,  some  peculiarity  of  speech  or  manner  may 
be  the  only  thing  copied,  while  real  excellences  of 
character  may  escape  the  observation  or  at  least  the 
intelligent  perception  of  the  child. 

An  ideal  worthy  of  being  copied  should  therefore  be 
presented  to  the  child,  and  an  impersonal  rather  than 
a  personal  one.  To  do  this  the  teacher  must  first  gain 
the  confidence  of  each  child  and  find  out  what  its  ideal 
is.  He  should  enter  into  the  child's  thoughts,  while 
he  brings  out,  through  judicious  questioning  or  friendly 
suggestion,  any  defects  he  notices.  Children  are  gen- 
erally open  to  conviction,  and  have  generous  impulses, 
and  when  once  they  have  conceived  the  idea  of  the 
beauty  of  true,  noble  manhood  and  womanhood,  of  un- 
selfishness, kindness,  truth,  honor,  honesty,  self-respect, 
it  will  not  be  difficult  to  arouse  in  them  a  desire  to 
attain  these.  To  the  highest  conception  of  a  perfect 
human  being  which  the  teacher  brings  before  his  pu- 
pils for  imitation,  he  should  give  an  impersonal  name, 
"  a  man  of  honor,"  "  a  true  woman,"  or  "  lady,"  might 
answer.  Then  he  must  lead  the  children  to  compare 
themselves  with  this  ideal,  and  criticise  them  or  com- 
mend them  as  they  deserve,  when  measured  by  this 
standard. 

Some  such  inspiring  ideal  the  teacher  must  keep 
before  his  pupils,  that  it  may  grow  upon  them  un- 
consciously and  become  their  own.  The  faculty  of 
imitation  will  then  operate  to  develop  the  child  into 


Love  and  Fear.  53 

an  image  of  this  ideal.  He  who  has  formed  the  habit 
of  comparing  his  words,  thoughts,  and  deeds  with  those 
of  a  high  ideal  has  nobility  of  character. 

One  thing  should  be  guarded  against.  Though  a 
child  learn  to  love  virtue  by  seeing  its  beauty  in 
others,  yet  the  teacher  should  not  let  it  try  to  be  any 
one  but  itself. 

"Oh,  "cried  a  young  girl, "  if  I  could  only  belike 
my  sister  Alice,  so  gentle,  so  refined,  so  beautiful  1" 

"You  cannot  be  like  Alice,"  replied  the  teacher, 
"nor  is  it  desirable  that  you  should  be.  You  are 
Cora,  and  you  must  try  to  be  just  as  good  and  lovely 
a  girl  in  your  way  as  Alice  is  in  hers.  The  rose  should 
not  try  to  imitate  the  lily,  for  that  is  against  its 
nature,  and  it  would  only  deform  itself  without 
making  a  perfect  lily;  but  it  should  try  to  be  a 
perfect  rose,  for  both  are  equally  beautiful  when  per- 
fect. Now  let  us  see  how  you  can  become,  not  an 
imperfect  imitation  of  Alice,  but  a  perfect  Cora." 

This  principle,  that  each  child  should  fully  develop 
its  own  character  into  the  best  of  which  it  will  admit, 
should  never  be  lost  sight  of.  The  gentle,  retiring 
child  cannot  be  developed  into  a  leader,  any  more  than 
the  enthusiastic  and  headstrong  one  can  become  a 
submissive  follower,  nor  should  either  feat  be  at- 
tempted. But  the  former  should  be  taught  to  love 
right  more  than  his  disposition  to  yield,  and  to  stand 
firm  on  vital  principles,  though  he  yield  all  else;  while 
the  latter  should  be  taught  to  curb  all  self-will  when 
right  is  concerned,  and  while  leading,  to  be  sure,  al- 
ways, that  he  leads  right;  and  he  should  learn  to  yield 
all  minor  points  cheerfully  to  the  wishes  of  others.  In 


54  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

this  way  both  may  be  perfected,  their  weak  points 
strengthened,  their  faults  corrected.  The  "personal 
equation"  should  never  be  neglected. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  ideal  presented  to  the 
child  should  be  an  impersonal  one.  Should  a  Wash- 
ington or  a  Franklin  be  set  up  as  an  ideal,  if  the 
question  were  asked,  "  What  would  he  do  under  the 
circumstances?"  a  thoughtful  child  might  quite  cor- 
rectly answer,  "Yes,  but  Washington  and  Franklin 
were  not  like  me,  and  they  lived  in  a  different  time 
from  mine.  If  they  lived  now,  perhaps  they  would 
not  do  just  as  they  did  a  hundred  years  ago. "  But  an 
impersonal  ideal  adapts  itself  to  the  individual  peculi- 
arities of  each  child;  it  is  flexible,  and  can  be  altered, 
while  a  personal  ideal  is  a  rigid,  unchanging  one. 

Thousands  of  different  plants  may  grow  on  the 
same  soil,  and  each,  by  cultivation,  be  made  perfect 
in  its  way;  so  thousands  of  different  characters  may 
each  be  perfectly  developed  on  the  ideal  principle. 
From  an  impersonal  ideal  each  would  receive  what  he 
needs,  while  a  personal  one  often  would  not  fit  into 
the  circumstances.  Washington,  as  an  ideal,  would 
not  suit  the  timid  little  boy  who  is  afraid  of  the 
"bully."  But  he  can  be  shown  how  "  a  man  of  honor," 
even  though  as  timorous  as  he, — which  is  no  disgrace, 
but  a  fault  to  be  corrected, — will  overcome  his  weak- 
ness and  bravely  defend  his  principles.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  the  headstrong,  violent  boy  is  pointed  out 
that  "a  man  of  honor"  is  he  who  "combines  the 
strength  of  a  man  with  the  gentleness  of  a  woman." 
He  uses  his  strength  of  body  and  mind  to  help  the 
weak  when  oppressed,  and  never  to  further  his  own 


Love  and  Fear.  55 

selfish  interests  at  the  expense  of  others'  well-being. 
The  vain  girl  will  see  in  "the  true  woman"  that  the 
beauty  springing  out  of  a  kind  and  loving  disposition  is 
far  more  valuable  and  enduring  than  mere  personal 
charms.  The  passionate,  undisciplined  one,  in  her 
"  gentlewoman "  will  see  the  beauty  and  power  of  self- 
control.  Thus  each  child  will  receive  an  ideal  which 
suits  its  own  individuality. 

The  conception  of  right  is  as  varied  as  that  of 
the  beautiful.  If  we  could  materialize  the  images  of 
beauty,  conceived  by  different  minds,  what  varied 
forms  we  should  see.  Yet  each  would  conform  in  part 
to  the  recognized  laws  of  beauty.  So  if  every  person 
could  give  a  distinct  idea  of  what,  in  his  mind,  consti- 
tutes a  perfect  man  or  woman,  what  strange  concep- 
tions would  appear;  yet  in  most  of  them  some  ap- 
proach, at  least,  to  the  recognized  laws  of  moral 
perfection  would  be  found.  This  ideal  of  each  person 
is  his  own  higher  self.  It  should  be  developed  and 
elevated,  but  not  supplanted  by  that  of  another. 

In  this  connection,  character-sketches  illustrating 
such  traits  as  in  this  or  that  child  need  developing 
are  useful.  Above  all,  true  biographies  of  great  men 
(not  panegyrics  upon  impossible  collections  of  virtues, 
unmixed  with  faults,  and  labeled  with  some  illustrious 
name)  will  be  found  useful.  A  biography  of  Wash- 
ington should  dwell  not  only  upon  his  unfailing  and 
steadfast  courage  and  patriotic  devotion  to  his  coun- 
try, but  should  also  mention  his  parsimony,  his  passion- 
ate temper,  his  natural  haughtiness.  Then  the  chil- 
dren should  be  made  to  see  that  part  of  his  greatness 
consisted  in  governing  these  faults.  He  loved  money, 


56  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

yet  he  asked  for  his  long  years  of  suffering  and  toil 
nothing  but  to  have  his  own  outlays  refunded.  He 
had  a  violent  temper,  but  he  controlled  it  so  well 
that  few  knew  of  it. 

It  should  be  strongly  impressed  upon  the  children 
that  Washington,  having  these  faults,  yet  controlling 
or  suppressing  them,  was  a  far  nobler  man  than  he 
would  have  been  had  he  not  had  them  and  had  acted 
exactly  as  he  did;  that  his  generosity  to  his  country 
showed  a  greater  love  for  it,  and  was  worthy  of  greater 
admiration,  because  he  was  not  naturally  generous; 
that  his  calm  demeanor  was  more  to  be  admired  be- 
cause he  was  naturally  so  quick  and  imperious. 

So  the  child  who  is  excessively  fond  of  out-of-door 
sports  deserves  more  credit  for  patient  application  to 
his  lessons,  than  one  to  whom  these  lessons  are  the 
greatest  pleasure.  The  headstrong  child  may  show  a 
greater  strength  of  character  in  yielding,  and  so  con- 
quering a  very  strong  self,  than  in  leading  and  conquer- 
ing only  others  who  are  weaker.  The  careless  child  is 
worthy  of  more  praise  when  he  attains  great  neatness, 
than  the  one  who  is  naturally  very  precise  and  care- 
ful. The  quick-tempered  one  exhibits  greater  virtue 
by  curbing  the  tongue  and  restraining  the  angry 
deed  and  remaining  calm,  than  one  who,  under  the 
same  circumstances,  does  not  become  equally  excited. 
In  this  way  may  be  developed  in  each  child  a  love  for 
right,  and  a  desire  to  conquer  its  own  individual  faults 
and  vices. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
CANT   AND   MORALIZING. 

TEACHERS  are  often  asked  to  give  model  lessons  in 
certain  special  lines  to  illustrate  a  superior  method 
for  the  benefit  of  other  teachers.  In  any  other  line 
of  study  this  is  perfectly  proper;  but  in  teaching 
ethics  this  should  never,  under  any  condition,  be  at- 
tempted. The  elevating  character  of  this  science 
makes  it  sacred;  therefore  "show  lessons, "  in  which 
children  would  have  to  answer  before  listeners  and 
critics,  would  tend  to  make  the  effect  of  the  lesson  just 
the  opposite  of  that  which  it  was  intended  to  be.  All 
work  in  this  line  must  be  natural  and  spontaneous; 
any  tendency  toward  "showing  off"  would  be  deplor- 
able. In  this  work  teachers  will  need  to  be  ever  on 
guard  against  two  insidious  enemies,  —  i.e.,  the  habit 
of  using  cant  phrases  and  that  of  moralizing. 

Cant  is  defined  as  "an  empty,  solemn  speech,  im- 
plying what  is  not  felt."  Cant  phrases  are  often 
used,  however,  by  persons  who  are  sincere  in  their 
feelings,  but  who  have  grown  careless,  often  ex- 
pressing their  thoughts  by  using  phrases  which  they 
hear  from  others.  Teachers  should  carefully  guard 
against  using  set  expressions,  which,  through  much 
repetition,  may  have  "lost  their  savor." 

The  new  method  of  teaching  patriotism,  for  instance, 
which  was  introduced  into  many  schools  during  the 

67 


58  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

Columbus  celebration  a  few  years  ago,  has  some  sus- 
picious elements. 

On  the  school-grounds  the  children  range  them- 
selves in  rows,  raise  the  right  hand  towards  the  flag, 
and  repeat  in  concert  the  following  words:  — 

"  I  pledge  allegiance  to  my  flag  and  the  republic 
for  which  it  stands.  One  nation  indivisible,  with  lib- 
erty and  justice  for  all  I" 

The  children  wriggle  and  squirm,  sometimes  they 
look  around  and  giggle  or  laugh,  while  they  babble 
these  words,  which  have  no  meaning  to  them. 

The  fundamental  mistake  is  that  we  force  children 
to  make  a  pledge.  When  a  soldier  pledges  his  alle- 
giance to  his  flag  and  country,  he  stands  ready  to  live 
and  die  for  it.  After  that  solemn  oath  is  taken,  he  is 
held  responsible  for  his  word;  if  he  break  it,  he  is 
severely  dealt  with  as  a  traitor.  This  pledge  to  the 
flag  is  given  once  in  a  lifetime;  it  is  not  repeated 
every  morning. 

If  "cant"  is  "a  solemn  speech  implying  what  is  not 
felt,"  what  must  be  our  conclusion  with  regard  to 
much  of  the  patriotism  which  we  "teach"  ? 

Is  not  patriotism,  after  all,  an  essentially  narrow 
virtue?  The  feeling  of  kinship  with  the  peoples  of  the 
whole  world  which  Miss  Andrews  hoped  to  awaken  by 
her  charming  stories  about  the  "  Seven  Little  Sisters 
Who  Lived  on  the  Great  Ball  that  Floats  in  the  Air" 
and  "Ten  Boys  Who  Lived  on  the  Road  from  Long 
Ago  to  Now, "  is  certainly  a  nobler  one. 

In  some  conservative  communities  a  stranger  is 
treated  with  the  most  embarrassing  suspicion  until 
he  has  established  his  right  to  live  by  many  proofs  of 


Cant  and  Moralizing.  59 

his  integrity.  Sometimes,  in  buildings  of  several 
rooms,  teachers  try  to  arouse  enthusiasm  among  their 
pupils  by  unduly  emphasizing  the  merits  of  "  our 
room,"  "our  record,"  "our  lines,"  etc.  The  narrow 
community-feeling  and  the  "  room-pride "  are  only  a 
little  more  restricted  than  the  patriotism  which  says, 
"  My  country,  right  or  wrong,"  instead  of  the  true  love 
of  country  which  says  with  Lowell,  "  My  country,  may 
she  ever  be  right!"  All  narrow  pride  creates  pre- 
judice against  whatever  is  without  certain  narrow 
limits,  and  this  must  work  mischief  in  the  end,  as  it 
is  not  in  accord  with  the  sympathy  which  we  should 
have  with  all  earnest  endeavor. 

Cant  phrases  are  sly  foxes,  and  the  defenses  must 
be  carefully  watched  lest  they  break  through.  Ruskin 
says  that  the  child  is  wiser  than  the  man,  since  he  is 
the  father  of  the  man.  So  children  often  detect  cant, 
where  their  elders,  more  accustomed  to  it,  do  not  feel 
it.  Let  the  teacher,  therefore,  guard  against  it,  and 
steer  any  child  inclined  to  use  "words  that  are  not 
felt"  away  from  the  shallows  where  rocks  lurk,  into 
the  deep  waters  of  genuine  feeling. 

The  other  danger  which  threatens  our  work  in  ethics 
is  the  habit  which  many  exacting  elders  have  of  cor- 
recting each  offense  by  giving  a  set  rule  of  action  to 
prevent  its  repetition.  The  difference  between  teach- 
ing children  moral  principles  and  moralizing  is  this: 
Teaching  fundamental  moral  principles  at  times 
when  no  offense  has  been  committed  gives  the  child 
resources  which  are  instinctively  drawn  upon  when 
they  may  be  needed;  the  child  thus  becomes  an  inde- 
pendent judge  of  its  own  action.  Moralizing,  on  the 


60  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

other  hand,  is  essentially  superficial,  "applied  from 
without, "  and  must  be  repeated  after  each  offense. 

" Incidental  teaching  of  ethics"  is  always  in  danger 
of  being  moralizing  in  tone,  as  the  instruction  is  given 
only  when  a  wrong  has  been  committed  and  the  child 
is  expected  to  apply  the  lesson  to  its  especial  case. 
Sometimes  the  child  is  angry,  and  the  lesson  may 
do  actual  harm.  In  some  cases,  however,  when  a 
serious  wrong  has  been  committed,  and  the  child  is 
penitent,  most  effective  help  can  be  given,  which  is 
fundamental  and  lasting  in  character.  Yet  the  dan- 
ger of  moralizing  always  remains.  Moreover,  "inci- 
dental teaching  "  does  not  cover  the  ground. 

Those  children  who  never  happen  to  offend  in  school, 
though  they  may  be  quite  as  faulty  outside  of  it,  re- 
ceive no  special  instruction.  May  it  be  partly  for  this 
reason  that  this  " perfect-in-deportment  class"  often 
turn  out  so  badly?  They  did  not  receive  as  careful 
instruction  as  their  less  well-behaved  companions; 
yet  for  life  they  needed  the  training  as  well  as  the 
others.  Perhaps,  on  account  of  a  certain  pliability  of 
nature,  a  tendency  to  priggishness,  and  a  habit  of 
judging  others  in  a  pharisaical  spirit,  they  may  really 
have  needed  this  training  more  than  their  willful, 
restless,  yet  generous  companions,  who  were  con- 
stantly offending. 

There  is  a  vast  difference,  then,  between  moral- 
izing and  most  incidental  teaching,  and  teaching 
fundamental  principles  which  apply  themselves  to  all 
the  varied  exigencies  of  life. 


JJart 

CHAPTER   I. 
THE    PERSONAL   VIRTUES. 

CONTROL  of  the  Self,  —  of  the  appetites  of  the  body, 
the  desires  of  the  mind,  the  emotions  and  their  ex- 
pressions; of  the  exercise  of  the  faculties  of  imitation 
and  habit,  of  the  imagination,  aye,  of  reason  itself, — 
this  is  the  noble  function  of  the  Will,  which  is  the  ex- 
pression of  the  ego.  Self-control,  then,  consists  of  an 
education  and  development  of  the  powers  of  the  Will,  in 
the  direction  indicated  by  the  judgment,  and  results  in 
the  quality  of  mind  which  is  called  firmness.  As 
this  control  or  government  of  the  self  is  the  great 
function  of  the  Will,  parents  and  teachers  must  exer- 
cise great  care,  lest,  through  their  measures  to  control 
the  child,  they  weaken  this  power. 

A  great  deal  of  self-control  is  natural,  and  is  exer- 
cised by  every  person.  As  a  young  child  develops,  its 
faculties,  one  after  another,  from  the  lowest  upward, 
are  taken  under  the  control  of  the  central  nervous 
system;  indeed,  they  are  not  faculties  until  they  are 
under  such  control.  Purposeless  and  seemingly  aim- 
less muscular  movements  become  denned  and  co- 
ordinated. The  list,  which  at  first  wanders  all  over 
the  face  in  its  attempt  to  reach  the  mouth,  soon  finds 
it  with  unerring  precision.  Then  the  little  hands 
learn  to  clasp  outside  objects  and  carry  them  to  that 
one  final  goal  of  a  young  baby's  every  manual  move- 
ment, the  mouth.  But  after  a  time  it  learns  that 

61 


62  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

some  substances  are  bitter  and  acrid,  some  objects 
hard  and  rough,  and  a  higher  center  interposes  to  for- 
bid or  inhibit  the  baby  habit,  in  order  to  prevent  a 
repetition  of  the  unpleasant  sensation  which  has  been 
so  produced.  Again,  the  child's  cry  may  be  restrained 
or  inhibited  by  the  sight  of  a  shining  object.  When 
a  child  burns  his  hand  he  instantly  withdraws  it  from 
the  dangerous  neighborhood.  That  movement  is 
caused  through  a  reflex  center  in  the  spinal  cord.  At 
the  same  time  the  sensation  of  pain  is  transmitted 
to  the  brain,  and  the  higher  centers,  acting  together, 
produce  a  cry.  As  the  child  grows  older,  a  controlling 
power  is  brought  into  play,  and  the  cry  is  restrained 
or  inhibited.  With  advancing  age,  new  faculties  are 
constantly  being  brought  under  these  "  controlling  " 
centers,  both  positive  and  negative. 

The  boy  or  girl  applies  himself  or  herself  to  a  dis- 
agreeable task,  in  order  to  accomplish  a  certain  pur- 
pose, or  for  love  of  some  person,  or  from  self-respect, 
refrains  from  performing  certain  acts  which  are  known 
to  be  wrong. 

As  the  individual  advances  towards  adult  life,  as 
his  judgment  and  reasoning  faculties  become  developed, 
his  desire  for  complete  control  of  self  increases.  He 
denies  his  appetite,  that  he  may  use  his  money  for 
more  useful  purposes;  or  his  love  of  pleasure,  that  he 
may  devote  his  time  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 
Love  may  teach  him  to  forego  pleasures  for  the  sake 
of  benefiting  others,  and  ambition,  vanity,  or  love  of 
right  may  cause  him  to  take  his  desires  more  and 
more  completely  under  his  control. 

He  learns  to  repress  the  expressions  of  his  emotions 


The  Personal  Virtues.  63 

(again  the  exhibition  of  a  restraining  or  inhibiting 
power);  anger,  pain,  or  disappointment  are  borne 
without  outward  sign. 

As  he  rises  still  higher  in  the  moral  scale,  as  his 
will  assumes  still  more  perfectly  its  proper  place,  he 
controls  not  only  the  outward  manifestations  of  the 
emotions,  but  harbors  only  such  as  are  sanctioned  by 
judgment  and  conscience, — only  such  as  he  considers 
right  and  honorable.  Thus  he  not  only  shows  no  im- 
patience over  the  vexations  of  life,  but  he  inhibits  even 
the  feeling  of  this  impatience. 

Deliberate  and  necessary  self-control  is  exercised  in 
avoiding  the  imitation  of  acts  which  the  judgment 
does  not  approve,  and  in  preventing  the  formation  of 
undesirable  habits.  The  highest  power  of  the  Will  is 
called  into  activity  in  the  control  of  the  faculties  of 
Imagination  and  Reason,  holding  the  one  rigidly  in 
check,  and  not  allowing  it  to  range  in  directions  or 
dwell  upon  subjects  considered  harmful,  and  forcing 
the  other  to  continuous  application  in  any  given  direc- 
tion, when  it  is  so  desired.  This  control  of  the  Imagi- 
nation and  Reason  constitutes  the  power  of  application, 
and  is  absolutely  necessary  for  the  performance  of  any 
mental  or  moral  work  of  a  high  grade.  Especially  is 
control  of  the  imagination  necessary  if  purity  of 
thought  and  action  is  to  be  maintained. 

The  higher  the  faculty  controlled  and  the  more 
complete  the  control,  the  higher  must  be  the  quality  of 
the  judgment  and  the  will  by  which  this  control  is 
exercised.  In  general,  the  restraining  or  inhibiting 
powers  are  the  highest,  and  the  last  to  develop.  As  a 
rule,  the  natural,  uncontrolled  tendency  is  toward  action 


64  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

of  some  sort,  though  often  in  the  wrong  direction. 
The  centers  restraining  or  inhibiting  this  action  are 
therefore  higher  than  those  producing  it.  This  in- 
hibiting power  is  usually,  also,  the  first  to  be  lost  under 
great  mental  strain,  and  we  have  the  excitement  and 
restlessness  of  nervous  prostration  and  of  hysteria. 

To  recapitulate:  The  station  of  the  ruled  deter- 
mines the  position  of  the  ruler.  The  nerve-center 
which  causes  a  child  to  withdraw  its  hand  from  a  hot 
stove  is  lower  than  that  which  causes  him  to  suppress 
the  cry  of  pain.  This  is  lower  than  that  through 
which  he  resolutely  sets  himself  to  suppress  the  out- 
ward manifestation  of  some  emotion,  as  hatred  or  im- 
patience. Higher  yet  is  the  control  of  the  thoughts, 
which  permits  neither  imagination  nor  any  other  fac- 
ulty to  run  riot,  but  holds  all  under  the  guidance  of 
an  educated  judgment  and  the  control  of  a  strong  will. 

That  this  higher  stage  may  be  reached,  the  lowest 
must  not  be  neglected.  It  is  as  impossible  for  a  man  to 
exercise  the  highest  forms  of  self-control  and  be  in- 
capable of  the  lower,  as  it  is  for  him  to  solve  a  problem 
in  trigonometry  and  be  ignorant  of  the  first  principles 
of  geometry. 

This  power  of  self-control  is  such  a  fundamental 
requirement  for  man's  development  in  every  direction, 
that  the  necessity  of  carefully  training  and  fostering 
it  in  the  young  will  be  denied  by  no  one  who  has 
given  the  subject  any  serious  consideration. 

Goethe  writes,  "  Teach  self-control,  whatever  else 
you  neglect";  and  no  one  looked  with  clearer  insight 
into  the  necessities  of  life  than  he. 

What  is  the  object  of  all  child- training?     Is  it  not 


The  Personal  Virtues.  65 

to  enable  the  child  the  better  to  withstand  the  trials  and 
temptations  of  life  without  being  swamped  by  them, — 
without  losing  manhood  and  self-respect  in  the 
"struggle  for  existence"?  And  is  not  self-indulgence 
the  stagnant  slough  which  swallows  up  so  many  prom- 
ising lives?  When  we  think  of  the  lives  wrecked  by 
gluttony,  intemperance,  indolence,  unchastity,  we  may 
well  repeat  Goethe's  words,  "  Teach  self-control,  what- 
ever else  you  neglect." 

Unyielding  self-control  is  always  recognized  as  an 
element  of  strength.  When  the  young  Roman  Mucius 
had  made  an  unsuccessful  attempt  upon  the  life  of  the 
Etruscan  king,  Porsena,  who  was  besieging  Rome,  he 
was  to  be  tortured  to  force  him  to  disclose  the  names 
of  his  confederates.  Instantly  he  laid  his  right  hand 
upon  a  bed  of  coals  near-by  to  show  his  fortitude. 
Porsena  was  so  impressed  with  the  strength  of  char- 
acter which  this  self-control  and  courage  indicated, 
that  he  sent  the  young  man  back  to  his  countrymen, 
and  soon  after  made  peace  with  an  enemy  that  num- 
bered such  brave  men  among  its  citizens. 

Self-control  produces  firmness  of  character,  but  ob- 
stinacy is  a  different  thing,  and  must  never  be  mis- 
taken for  it.  Parents  often  fall  into  the  error  of  look- 
ing upon  the  obstinate  resistance  of  a  child  as  a  mark 
of  its  strength  of  character,  and  frequently  commit 
the  still  graver  error  of  commenting  upon  this 
"  strong  will,"  in  the  presence  of  a  child,  with  an  air 
of  complacence  and  resignation  to  the  inevitable,  and 
with  a  secret,  but  not  secreted,  feeling  of  pride  in  the 
ungovernable  character  of  their  spoiled  pet. 

While  obstinacy  does  sometimes,  but  by  no  means 


66  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

always,  indicate  a  strong  will,  it  is  a  degeneration, 
therefore  a  weakness.  Nothing  so  much  interferes 
with  the  proper  education  of  a  child,  both  mentally 
and  morally,  as  this  obstinate,  unteachable  spirit.  In 
later  life  it  causes  great  unhappiness,  both  to  the  ob- 
stinate man  himself  and  to  his  surroundings,  and 
gives  in  return  no  satisfaction  whatever  to  any  one,  — 
neither  in  its  victory,  which  is  accompanied  by  a  deep 
inner  sense  of  wrong  done,  nor  in  its  defeat. 

Obstinacy  consists  of  an  adherence  to  ideas  or  reso- 
lutions, merely  because  they  have  been  formed  or 
taken  without  listening  to  the  dictates  of  reason  or 
judgment.  The  obstinate  person  refuses  to  yield  his 
position  because  that  might  be  construed  as  weak- 
ness; yet  this  fear  itself  is  an  element  of  weakness. 
He  holds  his  opinion  tenaciously,  fearing  that  rea- 
son will  take  away  its  foundation;  or,  again,  he 
sticks  to  his  expressed  beliefs  or  intentions  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  he,  forsooth,  has  expressed 
them. 

Now,  this  is  far  from  real  firmness, — 'real  strength  of 
will.  Firmness  is  based  upon  judgment;  obstinacy 
stands  against  it.  Firmness  courts  conviction,  and 
desires  to  stand  upon  the  truth  only;  obstinacy  is  not 
open  to  conviction.  Firmness  stands  unwavering  on 
principles,  and  yields  minor  points;  obstinacy  stands 
on  minor  points,  and  yields  principles. 

Self-control  includes  or  produces  many  of  the 
traits  of  character  which  man  esteems  most  highly  in 
himself  and  others.  Among  these  are  Self-denial, 
Moderation, — moderation  in  all  things,  even  in  mod- 
eration itself;  Industry  and  Application,  without 


The  Personal  Virtues.  67 

which  there  is  no  progress;  Patience  and  Cheerfulness, 
a  control  of  the  emotions  of  impatience  and  anger; 
Courage,  the  control  of  fear, — fear  of  every  kind, — 
physical,  mental,  and  moral. 

Courage  is  not  synonymous  with  fearlessness.  The 
former  consists  of  a  true  control,  even  to  suppression, 
of  the  emotion  of  fear;  the  latter,  of  an  entire  ab- 
sense  of  that  emotion.  Unconsciously,  every  one  pays 
a  tribute  of  honor  and  respect  to  the  man,  no  matter 
what  his  station  in  life,  who  shows  his  self-respect  by 
perfect  self-control. 


CHAPTER  II. 
HOW   TO   TEACH   THE   PERSONAL  VIRTUES. 

As  in  all  instruction  it  is  necessary  to  reason  from 
the  known  to  the  unknown,  so  this  process  must  be 
followed  in  moral  instruction.  It  will  do  no  good 
to  harangue  the  child  on  the  necessity  of  controlling 
himself,  but  he  must  be  made  to  see  that  his  powers 
are  of  use  only  as  they  are  controlled. 

One  or  more  lessons  may  be  profitably  spent  by  the 
pupils  in  merely  bringing  up  examples  of  power  which 
are  useful  under  control,  and  harmful  when  they  break 
away  from  it.  The  fiery  horse,  the  engine  in  motion 
steam,  water,  electricity,  fire, — how  useful,  even  how 
absolutely  necessary  to  life,  are  these,  yet  how  destruc- 
tive are  they  when  they  escape  from  control. 

Then  illustrations  nearer  home  may  be  used.  The 
hand  in  which  every  muscle  is  under  control  forms 
beautiful  letters,  or  draws  pictures  pleasing  to  the  eye. 
Another  hand,  not  so  well  controlled,  makes  "pot- 
hooks "  and  daubs.  The  success  of  a  pitcher  in  a  game 
of  baseball  depends  upon  the  perfect  control  he  has 
over  the  muscles  of  his  hand  and  arm,  each  acting 
just  exactly  as  he  desires,  and  at  the  instant  when  his 
will  commands.  This  enables  him  to  give  just  such 
direction  and  curves  to  the  flight  of  his  ball  as  he 
thinks  best.  But  if,  at  the  moment  of  his  throwing 
the  ball,  one  or  the  other  of  his  muscles  slips  out  from 
his  control,  and  refuses  to  obey,  the  result  is  a  failure. 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  69 

So  it  is  with  the  Will.  A  person  who  has  no  will 
does  what  others  will  that  he  should  do.  He  is  like  a 
leaf  blown  about  by  the  wind.  But  a  person  who  has 
a  will,  and  uses  it  as  he  should,  does  what  his  judg- 
ment teaches  him  is  right,  and  is  like  an  oak  tree  that 
stands  firm  against  the  strongest  wind. 

The  controlling  faculty  of  the  mind  is  the  Will, 
and  without  it  the  others  can  do  little  or  noth- 
ing. This  must  be  made  clear  to  the  children.  How 
many  times  did  not  the  judgment  tell  them  what 
was  right,  the  conscience  draw  them  towards  right? 
They  really  intended  to  do  right;  but  they  did  wrong, 
nevertheless.  Why  was  it  ?  Because  some  playmate 
wanted  them  to  do  wrong,  and  the  will  of  the  playmate 
was  stronger  than  their  own?  or  because  they  expected 
to  have  pleasure  out  of  their  wrong,  and  the  desire  for 
pleasure  was  stronger  than  their  will?  Sometimes 
men,  women,  or  children  do  wrong  because  they  are 
afraid  some  one  will  laugh  at  them  if  they  do  right. 
In  that  case  fear  is  stronger  than  the  will.  From  such 
illustrations  which  the  teacher  may  give,  and  others 
which  the  children  will  relate,  the  latter  can  readily 
be  made  to  understand  that  it  is  very  important  that 
every  one  have  a  strong  will,  if  he  wants  to  be  able  to 
do  what  he  thinks  best. 

To  make  anything  strong,  it  must  be  exercised,  and 
so  it  is  with  the  will.  The  will  should  govern  the 
person,  his  body  and  his  mind.  The  children  can 
then  be  shown  how,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  body  is 
always  governed  by  the  will.  They  will  to  raise  their 
hands,  and  the  muscles  raise  it;  they  will  to  stand  up 
or  to  sit  down,  to  walk,  to  run,  to  play,  and  the  body 


70  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

obeys  the  will.  They  thus  learn  that  the  body  is  sub- 
ject to  the  will,  and  that  every  person  has  in  this 
wonderful  and  complex  body  of  his  an  efficient  servant, 
always  ready,  when  properly  trained,  to  do  the  bidding 
of  the  will. 

Draw  the  child's  attention  to  the  fact  that  his  mus- 
cular system  and  all  his  senses  are  serving  him.  With 
his  hand  he  grasps  the  object  he  wants;  his  feet  carry 
him  wherever  he  desires  to  go;  his  ears  hear  for  him; 
his  eyes  see  for  him.  The  body,  then,  is  the  servant 
of  the  will,  and  all  servants  must  obey. 

If  a  man  has  a  coachman  to  take  care  of  his  horses, 
the  coachman  would  be  the  man's  servant.  Suppose, 
on  some  occasion,  the  man  told  the  servant  to  take 
care  of  the  horses,  and  the  coachman  replied,  "  No;  I 
do  not  want  to  do  that  now,  for  I  am  reading  a  pleasant 
book  which  I  want  to  finish."  Of  course  the  man 
would  say, "  While  you  are  my  servant  you  must  obey 
me;  go  and  do  as  you  are  told." 

But  many  people  allow  the  body-servants  which 
they  have  to  become  disobedient.  The  boy  may 
want  to  study  his  lesson,  he  wishes  to  stand  high  in 
his  class  and  bring  home  a  good  report,  but  his  eyes 
want  to  watch  the  boy  across  the  aisle,  who  is  draw- 
ing pictures  on  his  slate,  or  they  want  to  look  out  of 
the  window,  where  they  can  see  the  birds  flying  about. 
Now,  his  Will  keeps  telling  those  eyes,  "  Turn  to 
the  book  now."  His  Judgment  says,  "  You  will  not 
know  the  lesson  this  afternoon  if  you  do  not  study." 
But  the  eyes,  the  disobedient  servants,  do  not  obey. 
Now  the  boy  must  do  as  the  man  would  do,  —  make 
the  servants  obey  his  will. 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  71 

So  with  the  hands.  Many  a  boy  does  not  want 
them  to  play;  he  does  not  intend  to  make  any  noise; 
he  wishes  to  study;  but  his  disobedient  hands  do  it 
against  the  orders  of  his  own  will.  What  a  poor,  in- 
competent master  that  boy's  will  is,  to  let  his  servants 
do  just  as  they  please! 

It  will  be  a  good  plan,  in  order  to  interest  the  chil- 
dren in  this  right  of  the  Will  to  control  the  body,  to 
let  them  spend  some  time  in  learning  and  thinking 
about  making  their  hands  and  feet,  their  eyes  and  ears, 
obey  them.  The  exercise  will  be  useful  by  drawing 
their  attention  to  the  subject;  for  if  a  child  only 
learns  to  think  of  acting  according  to  the  will,  even 
though  he  breaks  his  resolution,  it  is  better  than  act- 
ing on  a  blind,  unreasoning  impulse.  As  the  child's 
desire  for  control,  and  admiration  for  the  person  who 
possesses  it,  grows,  he  himself  will  gradually  acquire  it. 

These  lessons  can  be  introduced  in  so  tactful  a  man- 
ner, and  be  made  so  attractive,  that  even  those  un- 
fortunate children  who  are  possessed  of  an  obstinate, 
unteachable  spirit,  and  who  usually  fight  shy  of 
everything  savoring  of  a  moral  lesson,  are  interested 
in  their  servants,  and  in  the  exercises  to  bring  them 
under  the  will,  before  they  know  it,  and  without  at 
first  realizing  the  drift  of  the  lesson.  Once  their  in- 
terest is  aroused,  there  will  be  no  further  difficulty. 

One  thing  should  be  remembered.  Such  lessons 
must  never  be  made  personal.  The  instruction  and 
the  exercises  should  be  general,  and  not  as  if  called 
out  by  any  one  particular  misdemeanor.  This  is  apt 
to  arouse  opposition,  especially  in  a  naturally  obsti- 
nate child. 


72  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

After  the  child  has  become  interested  in  enforcing 
obedience  from  his  bodily  "  servants,"  he  can  be  taught 
that  he  has  yet  other  faculties,  even  more  important, 
which  also  need  to  be  brought  under  control,  so  that 
they,  too,  like  well-trained  servants  shall  do  exactly 
as  he  bids  them. 

Childien  know  that  the  power  which  thinks  is  called 
the  Mind.  But  as  the  body  has  in  it  organs  which  have 
different  functions,  —  the  eye  for  seeing,  the  ear  for  hear- 
ing, the  hand  for  many  purposes,  the  lower  limbs  for 
moving  the  body  from  place  to  place, —  so  in  the  mind 
there  are  different  faculties  for  different  purposes. 

One  faculty  of  the  mind  is  that  of  study,  which  is 
used  in  thinking  hard  over  a  lesson  or  in  trying  to 
solve  a  problem.  The  child  that  leans  his  head  on 
his  hand,  and  thinks  with  all  his  might  to  learn  a 
way  of  solving  a  perplexing  problem  in  arithmetic,  is 
using  this  power. 

Another  faculty  of  the  mind  is  the  power  of  feeling. 
A  person  feels  love  for  his  friends,  or  anger  at  some 
one's  unkindness,  or  impatience  because  he  must 
wait.  He  need  not  think  much  about  these  things, 
but  he  feels  them  without  thinking. 

Still  another  faculty  is  that  of  "  making  believe," 
or  "  supposing."  Every  one  at  times  "  supposes " 
things  that  are  not  really  true,  and  this  faculty  of 
"  supposing  "  is  called  Imagination.  Boys  and  girls 
imagine  what  they  will  do  when  they  go  to  the  beach 
next  summer,  or  they  imagine  what  a  pleasant  time 
their  friends  in  the  country  are  having  now.  Often 
they  may  sit  for  hours  imagining  what  they  will  do 
when  they  are  men  and  women,  and  perhaps  so  forget 
that  they  have  something  to  do  now. 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  73 

These  faculties  must  be  introduced,  as  it  were,  to  the 
child,  and  introduced  to  him  as  new,  or  rather  as  other, 
servants,  and  servants  that  need  to  be  trained  and 
controlled,  as  well  as  those  previously  spoken  about. 
Thus  the  faculty  of  study,  which  is  called  Reason, 
must  be  ready  to  obey,  and  go  to  work  when  the  child 
wants  and  needs  it,  or  it  is  of  no  use;  and  it  must 
also  stay  at  work  until  it  has  accomplished  its  task, 
or  until  the  honest  judgment  sets  it  free.  The  child 
or  man  that  has  an  obedient  reason  is  the  one  that 
can  always  think  out  difficult  problems,  study  lessons, 
—  in  short,  do  what  the  servant  is  there  to  do. 

Then  the  feelings.  There  are  very  many  of  these, 
and  they  make  life  happy  or  unhappy,  according  to 
the  kind  which  is  allowed  to  grow  and  the  kind  which 
is  suppressed.  The  child  that  suppresses  and  con- 
trols such  feelings  as  anger,  impatience,  envy,  and 
jealousy  will  naturally  train  such  other  feelings  as 
love,  kindness,  patience,  and  generosity.  Now,  which 
are  the  better?  Which  kind  will  you  have?  Is  it  better 
to  control  the  feelings,  and  have  just  such  as  you  think 
you  want?  or  is  it  better  to  let  them  come  haphazard, 
and  pay  no  attention  to  who  your  servants  are  and 
what  they  are  doing? 

Above  all,  the  Imagination  must  be  watched.  On 
questioning,  every  child  will  remember  occasions  when 
he  allowed  his  imagination  full  sweep.  (The  teacher 
must  not  seek  for  the  faults  of  the  Imagination,  but 
merely  for  occasions  where  it  was  used. )  This  boy 
made  up  a  story  for  his  composition;  that  girl  wrote 
a  little  history  of  a  conversation  between  a  bee  and  a 
flower.  Both  were  not  true,  but  both  were  the  pro- 
duct of  the  Imagination. 


74  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

Children  enjoy  using  this  faculty  as  we  always  en- 
joy using  good,  faithful,  and  obedient  servants.  Now, 
the  Imagination  is  sometimes  like  a  wild  horse;  it 
likes  to  run  away.  When  it  runs  away  without  sense 
or  reason,  —  as  when  a  boy  lies  abed  in  the  morning 
and  thinks  and  thinks  what  he  would  do  and  have  if 
he  had  a  house  full  of  money,  and  Aladdin's  wonder- 
ful lamp  too,  and  what  good  times  he  would  have 
floating  around  on  the  beautiful  lakes  in  golden  canoes, 
and  all  such  stuff, — when  the  Imagination  goes  off 
into  any  region  where  sense  and  reason  cannot  follow 
it,  then  it  is  no  longer  called  Imagination,  but  phan- 
tasy, and  the  difference  between  the  two  is  this:  Ima- 
gination does  as  it  is  told,  goes  where  it  is  sent,  comes 
back  when  it  is  called,  and  is  always  sensible  and  rea- 
sonable; it  is  man's  servant.  But  phantasy  goes 
where  it  pleases,  stays  as  long  as  it  wants  to,  has 
neither  sense  nor  reason,  and  is  man's  master;  and  a 
yery  bad  master  too.  This  kind  of  an  imagination 
is  called  day-dreaming,  and  children  can  be  made 
to  see  that  the  child  or  man  who  does  not  control  his 
imagination,  but  lets  it  run  off  with  him,  amounts  to 
very  little.  He  never  studies  his  lessons,  he  never 
knows  what  is  going  on  around  him,  and  unless  he 
learns  to  control  his  imagination  he  will  never  amount 
to  anything.  Nearly  every  child  can  call  to  mind 
examples  of  such  people. 

Sometimes  the  imagination  wants  to  dwell  on 
things  that  are  not  clean  and  pure, — things  that  the 
child  or  man  would  not  be  willing  to  tell  others 
about,  or  would  be  ashamed  to  have  it  known  that 
he  thought  of.  them.  Now,  such  things  are  unclean, 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  75 

and  everything  that  is  unclean  makes  unclean  what- 
ever it  touches.  Let  the  least  bit  of  soot  come  on 
your  hand,  —  you  may  not  know  it,  and  touch  your 
face  with  it, — there  is  a  dirty  streak;  you  touch  the 
other  hand, — there  is  another;  you  put  the  finger  on 
the  white  paint,  and  it  leaves  a  black  imprint,  and 
then  upon  a  clean  white  dress,  and  it  too  is  soiled.  In 
time  the  soot  which  is  only  put  on  from  the  outside 
wears  off,  but  the  moral  dirt,  which  comes  from  the 
inside  of  a  person's  mind,  cannot  wear  off,  and  only 
disappears  when  he  himself  constantly  keeps  his 
moral  face  and  hands  clean,  so  to  speak, — i.e.,  when 
he  allows  nothing  impure  or  coarse  to  remain  in  his 
mind  or  imagination. 

All  these  faculties,  then,  are  servants,  just  as  the 
bodily  faculties  are,  and  it  is  the  business  of  the  judg- 
ment to  see  that  they  know  what  to  do,  and  of  the 
will  to  force  them  to  do  it.  The  attention  of  the  chil- 
dren should  bo  called  to  the  fact  that  it  is  a  fine  thing 
to  have  a  will  strong  enough  and  a  judgment  wise 
enough  to  control  such  very  high  and  remarkable 
faculties. 

Imitation  and  Habit  are  two  other  important  fac- 
ulties to  which  the  children's  attention  needs  to  be 
directed.  They  should  be  led  to  notice,  more  than 
they  probably  have,  how  often  every  one  is  uncon- 
sciously impelled  to  imitate  the  action  of  others. 
When  one  person  yawns,  every  one  else  does  the 
same,  or  feels  the  impulse  to  do  it.  The  one  who 
speaks  pleasantly  will  receive  a  pleasant  answer,  and  the 
one  who  speaks  unpleasantly,  an  unpleasant  one.  We 
constantly  find  ourselves  saying  and  doing  things  as 


76  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

others  do  them.  One  child  copies  from  another, — par- 
ticularly if  he  admires  him, — and  children  often  do 
wrong  merely  because  some  one  else  did  it.  But  they 
—  and  adults  as  well — often  also  do  right  merely 
because  some  one  else  did.  Thus  one  newsboy  in  an 
Eastern  city  saved  several  people  from  drowning,  and 
was  written  about  a  good  deal  in  the  papers.  In  con- 
sequence of  that,  boys  in  other  places  strayed  along 
the  river  banks,  watching  to  save  people's  lives,  and 
in  a  number  of  cases  did  so.  This  was  merely  imita- 
tion, but  it  was  of  a  good  kind. 

Every  one  has  imitated  both  good  and  bad  actions 
in  his  life,  and  teacher  and  pupil  might  record  many 
instances  of  this  in  their  observations  of  others.  Here 
again  it  is  best  not  to  let  them  tell  what  the  nature  of 
the  act  copied  was,  whether  good  or  bad.  Merely  to 
notice  the  act  of  imitation  is  sufficient. 

So  with  Habits.  The  teacher  should  direct  the 
minds  of  the  children  towards  an  observation  of  these, 
—  the  facility  with  which  they  are  formed  and  the 
difficulty  with  which  they  are  broken  off.  The 
children  should  enumerate  the  habits  they  approve  of, 
and  why.  In  this  connection  the  teacher  can  do  much 
by  encouraging  the  imitation  of  desirable  traits  of 
character  or  of  noble  deeds.  This  habit  of  discrimi- 
nation can  be  developed  into  a  most  useful  and  desir- 
able one. 

Teachers  must  not  expect  to  influence  their  pupils  at 
once.  If,  at  first,  the  children's  minds  are  merely  directed 
towards  observing  with  intelligence,  an  immense  step 
has  been  taken,  for  the  blind,  unreasoning  following 
of  impulse  is  one  of  the  greatest  bars  to  a  high  moral- 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  77 

ity.  When  the  children  have  become  acquainted 
with  the  general  tendencies  of  human  nature,  little  by 
little  they  themselves  will  see  the  special  tendencies, 
the  weaknesses,  and  the  strong  points  of  their  own 
nature;  and  having  learned  how  to  correct  or  encourage 
these,  having  clear-cut,  well-defined  moral  knowledge, 
their  unconscious  natural  tendency  will  be  to  suppress 
the  faults  and  cultivate  the  virtues. 

In  this  connection  it  is  not  necessary,  perhaps 
scarcely  desirable,  that  too  great  an  enthusiasm  for 
reform  be  awakened  in  the  children.  Enthusiasm 
founded  on  emotion  too  often  is  followed  by  reaction. 
Too  much  is  attempted  at  once;  and  as  almost  certain 
failure  follows,  the  enthusiasm  becomes  dampened, 
and  nothing  is  left.  Much  more  certain  is  it,  as  has 
been  said  before,  to  awaken  an  intelligent  desire  for 
improvement.  This  will  grow  naturally  out  of  the 
intellectual  knowledge  gained. 

In  the  higher  grades  the  children  will  take  up  the 
different  qualities  springing  from  self-control,  and 
study  them  carefully.  One  of  the  most  prominent 
among  these  is  — 

MODERATION.  In  beginning  the  study  of  this,  the 
children  should  first  be  asked  to  look  up  the  meaning 
of  the  word,  and  compare  it  with  others  of  similar  in- 
tent. Then  they  should  learn  how  it  is  applied  to  the 
actions  of  men.  Why  is  moderation  a  desirable 
quality?  Why  is  it  always  undesirable  to  go  to  ex- 
tremes? Are  there  any  occasions  when  it  seems  advis- 
able to  go  to  an  extreme?  Even  then,  if  the  action  is 
governed  and  controlled  by  reason,  is  it  not  moderated? 
Does  loss  of  self-control  weaken  a  person's  influence 
with  himself  and  others,  or  does  it  not? 


78  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

When  the  matter  is  carefully  considered,  when 
known  examples  from  real  life  and  from  history  are 
cited,  it  will  be  generally  conceded  that  the  person 
who  is  moderate  in  his  views  and  in  their  expression, 
who  does  not  go  into  extremes  or  "  fly  off  the  handle," 
is  the  one  who  receives  the  respect  and  confidence  of  his 
fellow-men.  Moderation  is  like  the  fly-wheel  of  an  en- 
gine, regulating  the  application  of.  the  force,  which  it 
also  increases.  Thus  brought  before  them,  all  will 
accept  moderation  as  a  desirable  trait  of  character. 

Moderation,  as  it  exists  in  men  and  women,  is  of 
two  kinds:  that  of  the  man  who  never  is  tempted  to 
depart  from  the  even  tenor  of  his  way,  and  who  never 
is  roused  to  strong,  deep  feelings  on  any  subject;  and 
that  which  is  due  to  self-control,  beneath  which  may 
exist  the  deepest,  most  intense  feeling.  Pupils  should 
be  asked  to  give  examples  of  these  two  different  kinds 
of  moderation  in  the  characters  of  history  and  fiction 
as  far  as  they  know  them,  and  they  may  be  allowed 
to  mention  the  number  of  people  among  their  acquaint- 
ances who  possess  one  or  the  other  of  them.  They 
should  not  be  permitted  to  mention  names,  nor  in  any 
way  become  personal.  They  should  be  warned  against 
this  even  among  themselves,  as  nothing  is  easier  than 
making  mistakes  in  judging  of  the  characters  of  others. 
A  wise  and  moderate  man  will  be  slow  to  make  up  his 
mind,  and  while  he  thinks  that  he  is  right,  he  reserves 
his  judgment  until  doubt  is  no  longer  possible. 

In  examining  into  the  nature  of  these  two  kinds  of 
moderation,  we  find  that  the  first  is  no  moderation  at 
all,  for  moderation  means  to  "  lessen,"  "  repress," 
"  reduce  from  a  state  of  violence."  Where  there  is 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  79 

no  feeling  to  reduce  or  lessen,  there  can  be  no  mod- 
eration. Such  calmness  of  demeanor  results  from  a 
phlegmatic  temperament,  but  does  not,  as  a  rule,  carry 
with  it  the  weight  and  sense  of  reserve  power  which 
accompanies  the  forceful  moderation  of  strong  feeling 
or  excitement.  It  is  no  misfortune,  but  rather  the 
opposite,  therefore,  to  be  born  with  a  tendency  to  great 
intensity  of  feeling,  if  only  this  is  kept  within  bounds. 
By  means  of  literature  and  suggestions  the  pupils  can 
be  made  to  think  of  this  matter  frequently,  to  admire 
the  moderation  possessed  by  great  men,  and  to  desire 
it  for  themselves. 

INDUSTRY  AND  APPLICATION.  The  value  of  these, 
like  that  of  moderation,  must  be  discussed,  illustrated 
by  practical  examples  and  literary  selections,  and  its 
necessity  for  the  future  moral,  mental,  and  physical 
prosperity  emphasized.  Manual  training,  when  it 
shall  be  introduced  into  all  schools,  will  do  much 
towards  increasing  both  these  qualities  among  school 
children. 

PATIENCE  AND  CHEERFULNESS.  These  two  generally 
go  together,  and  rest  upon  moderation  and  courage. 
They  should  be  encouraged,  like  the  others,  by  means 
of  questions,  suggestions,  literary  selections,  and 
thought.  Few  persons  fully  realize  the  beauty  and  at- 
tractiveness of  a  bright,  ever  cheerful  disposition, 
which  clears  away  the  clouds  of  impatience  and  brings 
sunshine  to  every  one.  This  is  a  virtue  which,  with 
patience  in  annoyance  or  vexation,  cannot  be  too  care- 
fully cultivated. 

Cheerfulness  and  Patience  are  rarely  found  with  a 
bad  conscience.  The  cheerful  person  is  generally  the 


80  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

one  who  does  his  duty  to  the  best  of  his  knowledge 
and  ability,  even  though  it  is  disagreeable.  If  chil- 
dren will  recall  when  they  themselves  have  been  most 
cheerful,  they  will  find  that  it  was  when  they  had  the 
pleasing  consciousness  of  a  duty  well  done,  —  a  kind 
or  unselfish  act  performed.  And  when  are  they 
"cross"?  When  they  have  neglected  their  duty  or 
have  done  what  they  knew  was  wrong.  At  such  a 
time  the  conscience  reproves  them,  and  this  uncom- 
fortable feeling  they  vent  upon  their  surroundings. 

Cheerfulness  is  also  largely  a  matter  of  habit  and  of 
manner.  Even  the  smallest  children  in  school  can 
learn  to  cultivate  a  pleasant  voice  and  a  cheerful 
manner.  It  is  surprising  how  quickly  the  outward 
manner  will  penetrate  into  the  inner  spirit.  Older 
pupils  should  also  have  their  attention  drawn  to  this 
matter,  and  be  encouraged  always  to  be  pleasant  and 
cheerful  in  their  daily  intercourse  with  others,  and  es- 
pecially in  the  home  life,  lest  they  fall  into  the 
grave  fault  of  cheerfulness  with  the  outside  world  and 
a  morose  manner  at  home.  This  is  simply  one  form 
of  hypocrisy. 

COURAGE.  Much  can  be  said  about  Courage,  the 
control  of  the  sense  of  fear.  As  has  been  said  before, 
courage  is  not  synonymous  with  fearlessness,  or  absence 
of  fear,  but  consists  of  an  active  control  of  a  real  emo- 
tion of  fear,  and  of  a  base  fear  which  needs  to  be 
conquered  or  suppressed,  —  a  fear  which,  if  allowed  to 
sway  the  actions  of  a  man,  would  lead  him  to  do 
wrong.  This  should  be  impressed  upon  the  pupils. 

As  before,  the  children  should  give  their  ideas  of 
courage  and  relate  examples.  At  first,  or  among  the 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  81 

younger  children,  examples  of  physical  courage  only 
will  probably  be  related.  The  older  or  more  thought- 
ful ones  will  tell  instances  of  moral  courage, — individ- 
uals daring  to  do  right,  even  though  ridicule,  con- 
tempt, loss  of  wealth  and  position,  followed.  Com- 
paratively few,  especially  among  the  young,  realize 
how  much  courage  is  needed  in  daily  life  if  a  man  is 
to  retain  his  individuality  and  his  integrity.  Yet 
how  rare  is  the  man  who  has  "  the  courage  of  his 
convictions." 

In  school,  children  should  learn  to  hold  their 
opinions  fairly,  modestly,  yet  unwaveringly,  until  con- 
vinced of  their  error;  and  when  so  convinced,  —  when 
they  find  they  are  wrong,  —  unhesitatingly  yield  them 
and  adopt  those  they  have  reason  to  believe  correct. 
But  the  convincing  power  must  be  reason,  not  deference 
to  position  or  authority.  No  action  is  farther  re- 
moved from  courage  than  that  of  the  man  who  is 
afraid  to  confess  his  error  lest  it  be  construed  as 
weakness.  This  needs  to  be  constantly  impressed 
upon  children. 

TEMPERANCE.  Temperance,  like  the  other  virtues, 
should  be  spoken  about,  its  bearings  discussed,  the 
best  means  of  attaining  and  keeping  it  considered. 
Literature  describing  the  evil  effects  of  alcohol  and 
the  revolting  aspects  of  the  vice  of  intemperance  is 
plentiful,  temperance  being  almost  the  only  virtue 
which  has  an  abundant  literature  of  its  own,  and 
which  is  generally  and  widely  praised  and  recom- 
mended. 

Where  a  systematic  course  of  training  in  general 
self-control  is  carried  out  at  home  and  in  school,  no 


82  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

special  danger  need  be  apprehended  from  the  source 
of  intemperance.  This  only  becomes  dangerous  when 
the  child  is  incapable  of  controlling  his  appetites. 

The  question  whether  total  abstinence  should  be  or 
should  not  be  advocated  in  the  public  schools  cannot. 
be  discussed  here.  One  thing  is  certain:  the  child 
that  has  learned  thoroughly  to  control  and  deny  his 
appetites  will  also  control  this  one.  A  child  will 
never  become  a  drunkard  if  the  lesson  of  self-control 
has  been  thoroughly  taught. 

This  does  not  mean  that  parents  and  teachers  who 
believe  in  total  abstinence  should  not  urge  it  upon  the 
children  intrusted  to  their  care;  only,  they  should  not 
depend  solely  upon  a  pledge  which  may  prove  but  a 
weak  defense  against  the  pleadings  of  an  appetite; 
they  should  rather  build  strong  and  well  the  power  of 
self-denial  and  self-control,  to  give  force  to  the  pledge 
and  make  it  what  it  is  fondly,  but  only  too  often  falla- 
ciously, hoped  to  be:  a  tower  of  strength. 

Some  persons  believe  that  intemperance  is  very  in- 
frequent in  childhood,  and  that,  therefore,  the  child 
rarely  or  never  needs  to  be  cautioned  against  it.  This 
is  a  double  fallacy. 

First,  the  child  needs  to  be  cautioned  against  those 
faults  which  may  prove  dangerous  to  it  in  later  life. 
Second,  the  child  itself  is  often  the  victim  of  intem- 
perance. True,  this  intemperance  is  not  in  the  use 
of  intoxicants,  but  a  no  less  overmastering  passion 
with  many  is  the  appetite  for  sweetmeats,  or  for  to- 
bacco, in  the  case  of  boys,  which  prepares  the  way  for 
the  more  degrading  intemperance  in  the  use  of  alco- 
holic liquors. 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  83 

After  Sunday  school,  little  children  swarm  into  the 
candy-store,  to  spend  the  money  given  them  for  the 
contribution-box,  for  candy.  This  is  a  common  fact, 
for  which  the  candy  dealer  prepares.  It  is  unneces- 
sary to  comment  upon  the  danger  in  which  these  chil- 
dren are.  Later,  sweets  pall  upon  them,  and  they  re- 
sort to  stronger  indulgences. 

The  system  of  school  savings  banks,  which  is  now 
being  introduced,  may  perhaps  prove  of  use  in  teach- 
ing children  economy,  but  here  great  care  needs  to  be 
exercised,  lest  in  correcting  one  fault  another  and  greater 
be  produced.  It  is  unnatural  for  a  child  to  hoard 
money  too  carefully.  If  he  learns  business  habits 
and  economy  through  the  bank,  care  should  be  taken 
that  he  do  not  also  learn  miserliness  and  avarice. 
On  the  whole  it  is  much  better  that  a  child  carry 
spending-money  of  his  own  in  his  pocket,  and  then 
learn  not  to  spend  it  for  useless  or  unnecessary  things, 
but  to  use  it  freely  for  that  which  will  really  benefit 
himself  and  others. 

PURITY.  The  subject  of  purity  is  a  very  delicate 
one  to  present  to  children,  yet  one  that  must  not  be 
neglected.  In  speaking  to  them  in  regard  to  this  sub- 
ject, it  is  well  to  have  the  sexes  separated.  Usually  it 
is  better  to  speak  to  individual  children.  Often,  how- 
ever, groups  of  children  who  live  near  each  other,  and 
walk  to  and  from  school  together,  fall  into  the  habit 
of  "  teasing "  each  other,  and  of  discussing  impure 
subjects.  If  the  teacher  will  carefully  watch  the 
children,  she  will  detect  those  who  would  be  benefited 
by  a  personal  talk,  as  impurity  soon  stamps  itself 
upon  the  child's  face. 


84  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

An  earnest  teacher  may  do  much  to  help  children, 
as  mothers  often  are  "  ashamed  "  to  speak  plainly  and 
simply  without  hesitation  or  embarrassment.  The 
mystery  which  surrounds  the  simple  biological  facts  of 
life  is  one  of  the  strongest  factors  in  impurity  of  thought. 

Whatever  the  children  may  have  learned  of  these 
facts  is  usually  associated  with  impure  matters.  Now, 
if  the  teacher  strips  off  all  these  associations,  shows 
the  child  the  reasonableness,  aye  the  absolute  neces- 
sity, of  each  plant  and  each  animal  reproducing  its 
kind,  the  matter  begins  to  look  very  different  to  the 
child.  If  this  desire  had  not  been  placed  in  the  nature 
of  all  living  things,  the  earth  would  be  a  desert.  There 
would  be  no  trees  to  give  shade  or  fruits,  no  grains, 
no  flowers,  no  animals.  A  sorry  place  this  great  earth 
would  be  with  no  living  thing  upon  it. 

When  the  child  has  grasped  the  idea  that  it  is  all 
natural,  and  therefore  pure,  then  the  danger  of  an  im- 
pure childhood  should  be  pointed  out. 

If  we  tear  a  little  green  rosebud  open  to  make  it 
blossom  sooner,  we  see  no  resemblance  in  this  distorted 
thing  to  the  beautiful  flower  which  it  would  have  been, 
had  we  left  it  to  unfold  naturally.  If  we  pick  apples 
off  the  tree,  which  are  no  bigger  than  cherries,  they 
will  not  taste  like  apples.  So  children  must  leave  all 
thoughts  of  their  "  blossoming-time  "  to  the  years  of 
manhood  and  womanhood,  where  they  belong. 

The  horrible  unhappiness,  the  disease,  the  insanity, 
and  the  shame  of  it  all  should  be  impressed  upon  them. 

If  small  children  are  guilty  of  using  impure  language, 
they  should  carefully  wash  and  rinse  the  mouth  from 
which  the  dirty  words  came,  so  that  they  may  feel 


How  to  Teach  the  Personal  Virtues.  85 

that  their  mouth  is  clean  again.  We  speak  of  a  per- 
son given  to  using  bad  language  as  "  foul-mouthed." 
This  expresses  the  popular  feeling  in  regard  to  the  use 
of  bad  language. 

The  vice  of  impurity  can  be  illustrated  by  showing 
a  child  an  apple  which  is  sound  from  without,  but  is 
decayed  within.  Apparently,  the  apple  is  good,  but  if 
we  feel  it  or  smell  it,  we  recognize  its  condition:  it  is 
rotten  at  the  core. 

So  the  impure  person  may  seem  pleasant  at  first, 
but  as  we  make  his  acquaintance  we  find  that  he  is 
disgusting.  Impurity  penetrates  into  the  very  core  of 
the  nature  and  eats  away  its  sweetness,  its  truth,  its 
honor,  and  its  happiness,  leaving  only  rottenness. 

Many  parents,  older  members  of  the  family,  too 
often  even  teachers,  have  the  pernicious  habit  of  di- 
recting the  child's  attention  to  the  sexual  relations  by 
constant  bantering  or  "teasing,"  and  frequent  allu- 
sions to  "love-making,"  "courting,"  "flirting,"  even 
—  with  regret  it  is  said  —  that  worst  of  vulgar  slang, 
"mashing,"  until  mind  and  imagination  of  the  child 
are  filled  with  this  subject.  What  wonder  that  the 
child's  thoughts  travel  in  the  forbidden  and  myste- 
riously dark  path,  the  gate  to  which  is  so  invitingly 
set  open  by  those  who  should  know  better.  Then, 
when  the  natural  fruit  appears,  which  such  training 
must  eventually  bear,  parents  and  teachers  are 
greatly  surprised  at  the  immorality  of  the  young, 
and  do  not  reflect  that  they  themselves,  by  their 
thoughtless  conversation  bordering  on  the  impure, 
very  often  started  the  little  soul  on  its  downward 
course,  and  left  it  a  victim  to  the  natural  tendencies 
which  they  have  prematurely  awakened. 


86  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

An  impure  mind  may  be  likened  to  a  cellar  full 
of  foul-smelling  debris  and  crawling  things  from 
which  odors  arise  into  the  house  above.  The  windows 
of  this  dark  place  are  covered  with  cobwebs  and  the 
stones  underfoot  are  slimy  and  dark.  But  let  a  neat 
housewife  with  her  helpers  come  into  the  place  with 
brush  and  broom,  soap  and  water,  and  open  up  the 
windows  and  the  doors  to  let  in  the  winds  of  heaven 
and  the  bright  sunshine.  Soon  the  place  is  cleared 
and  scrubbed,  the  smooth  gray  stones  appear,  the 
windows  shine,  the  walls  are  clean  and  white  as  pure 
lime  can  make  them.  All  bad  odors  are  gone,  and  the 
vile  place  has  become  a  pleasure  to  look  upon. 

This  illustration  is  easily  understood,  and  it  often 
arouses  a  child  to  undertake  the  warfare  against  vile- 
ness  within  himself.  At  first  he  may  need  to  have 
just  such  a  "  clarin'-out  time";  afterwards  he  will 
have  to  watch  closely  every  tendency  toward  the  old 
condition. 

A  transformation  has  sometimes  been  worked  in  the 
mind  of  a  child  in  a  few  months  by  an  earnest  teacher. 
If  we  guard  children  against  this  vice  as  against  a 
pestilence,  and  arouse  in  them  desire  to  keep  their 
birthright,  clean  hands,  a  pure  heart,  a  good  con- 
science, and  an  eye  which  can  look  the  whole  world 
in  the  face  honestly  and  firmly,  we  have  blessed  them 
with  a  power  which  will  help  them  to  rise  above  all 
difficulties. 

"  I  gave  my  son  a  temple, 

And  a  kingdom  to  control, — 
The  temple  of  his  body, 

And  the  kingdom  of  his  soul." 

—  JULIA  WARD  HOWE. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE   IDEAL  VIRTUES. 

THE  truest  and  best  men  and  women  are  those  who 
are  either  consciously  or  unconsciously  obeying  the 
old  command,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God 
with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all 
thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself." 

To  love  God  in  this  way  means  also  to  love  the 
spirit  of  God,  Truth  and  Right;  to  love  these  above 
one's  own  life,  and  even  above  the  life  and  happiness 
of  those  who  are  nearest  and  dearest.  This  love  for 
the  Ideal  Good  is  the  first  and  greatest  law  of  our 
ethics  at  the  present  time. 

What,  then,  is  Truth?     What  is  Right? 

Truth  is  the  law  upon  which  the  universe  is  built; 
it  is  the  wisdom  of  God.  No  human  mind  will  ever 
grasp  it.  We  see  only  a  small  part  of  it  at  a  time. 
Many  fragments  have  been  gathered  together  slowly 
by  succeeding  generations  of  men.  Such  fragments  of 
Truth  are  called  truths.  There  is  mental,  moral,  and 
physical  truth.  Moral  truth  is  Right. 

Truth  is  always  passive;  it  never  forces  itself  upon 
the  mind.  It  is,  and  that  is  all.  The  human  mind 
must  seek  it,  must  quarry  it,  as  it  were,  must  formu- 
late the  underlying  truths  or  laws  from  the  superficial 
truths  or  phenomena. 

Error  is  misconception  of  a  truth,  mental,  moral,  or 
87 


88  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

physical;  falsehood  is  its  denial.  The  mind  may  ac- 
cept an  error  and  reject  a  truth.  It  can  never  accept 
a  known  falsehood;  it  simply  rejects  it.  The  rejection 
may  not  be  admitted  before  the  world,  or  even  to  the 
mind  itself;  but  it  is  impossible  for  the  mind  to  accep 
a  known  untruth,  however  much,  from  motives  of  ex- 
pediency, it  may  desire  to  do  so.  When  a  proposition 
is  true  to  the  understanding,  when  it  appears  demon- 
strated as  a  fact,  then  it  is  accepted.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  its  untruth  appears  demonstrated,  then  it 
is  rejected,  and  that,  whether  acceptance  or  rejectance 
be  admitted  or  denied. 

Between  demonstrated  truth  and  demonstrated  un- 
truth lies  a  wide  field  comprising  the  undemonstrated. 
Within  this  lie  all  those  statements  or  propositions 
that  do  not  admit  of  proof  or  demonstration  which  is 
equally  convincing  to  all  minds.  These  the  mind  be- 
lieves or  disbelieves,  accepts  or  rejects,  as  probable 
truths.  Every  mind  accepts  as  true  some  undemon- 
strated propositions. 

Truth  is  not  affected  by  men's  acceptance  or  rejec- 
tance of  it.  A  truth  may  be  rejected  by  all  men  con- 
tinuously for  ages;  it  may  never  be  recognized.  Yet 
it  remains  a  truth,  unchangeable  and  everlasting,  as 
the  distant  star  remains  a  star,  whether  the  rays  reach 
this  planet  or  are  lost  in  space  before  arriving  here. 

Truth  is  always  the  same,  and  when  it  apparently 
changes,  it  is  not  truth,  but  the  standpoint  of  the  ob- 
server, which  is  altered.  Right  is  always  right,  and 
wrong  is  always  wrong,  but  the  right  and  wrong  of 
special  acts  may  vary  with  the  circumstances  which 
produce  and  the  judgment  which  indorses  them.  The 


The  Ideal  Virtues.  89 

knowledge  of  Truth  is  becoming  more  and  more  widely 
diffused  among  men,  dissipating  the  clouds  of  error 
and  ignorance  which  darkened  their  minds. 

The  knowledge  of  truths,  classified,  is  Science. 
There  are  mental,  moral,  and  physical  sciences.  These 
sciences  now  enter  into  men's  lives  as  never  before  in 
the  history  of  the  world.  Mental  science  is  applied 
in  the  acquisition  of  all  knowledge,  while  the  applica- 
tion of  physical  sciences  to  the  matters  of  daily  life  is 
constantly  increasing,  and  knowledge  that  would  have 
startled  the  sages  of  former  days  now  belongs  to  every 
schoolboy. 

Moral  truth  carried  out  in  men's  lives  is  virtue. 
This  is  fundamentally  different  from  mental  science. 
Our  mental  attainments,  even  if  not  practiced  in  later 
life,  still  benefit  us  by  the  greater  mental  power  which 
their  mastery  has  given  us,  and  also  in  the  general 
information  gained.  But  a  moral  truth  must  live- 
it  must  grow.  If  it  does  not  grow,  the  life  will  die  out 
of  it,  and  nothing  but  the  husk  will  be  left.  This  is 
"cant." 

The  ideal  virtues  are  truthfulness,  honesty,  justness, 
and  humility.  Truthfulness  may  be  defined  as  the 
will,  first,  to  see  the  self,  and  all  that  relates  to  it, 
in  its  true  light;  and  second,  to  frankly  present  to 
others  this  true  self.  To  have  the  will  to  see  one's 
self  without  sophistication  does  not  necessarily  mean 
that  one  will  succeed  in  doing  so.  Among  the  many 
errors  which  men  are  constantly  making,  none  is  so 
common  as  a  misconception  of  their  own  char- 
acter. At  themselves  they  look  through  the  glasses 
of  their  best  thoughts  and  the  mists  of  their  good 


90  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

intentions,  until  they  have  very  vague  conceptions 
of  their  real  selves,  though  they  may  have  the 
desire  to  be  truthful.  Thus  a  man  remembers  his 
noble  emotions  in  connection  with  a  needy  case, 
and  forgets  that  his  meager  contribution,  and  not 
the  stirring  of  his  imagination,  measures  his  real 
self. 

To  see  the  self  in  its  true  light  requires  not  only  the 
will  to  do  so,  but  it  requires  also  justness  and  honesty. 
The  tendency  of  the  human  mind  is  toward  overesti- 
mation  of  self,  its  better  qualities  and  emotions,  and 
an  underestimation  of  everything  which  detracts  from 
these. 

Thus  man  naturally  regards  with  very  kindly  eyes 
all  his  virtues,  and  gives  himself  credit  for  his  good 
deeds.  But  he  does  not  apply  the  same  magnifying 
standard  to  the  other  side  of  his  character.  He  calls 
his  vices  "faults,"  while  his  faults  are  "eccentricities," 
quite  excusable  in  a  man  of  his  mental  and  moral 
caliber. 

If  men  saw  their  actions  in  the  light  of  truth,  un- 
screened and  undisguised  by  the  sophistries  of  selfish 
indulgence,  only  the  lowest  and  most  degraded  would 
do  that  which  is  directly  opposed  to  moral  principles. 
But  men  do  not  like  to  draw  aside  this  veil  of  sophis- 
tries with  which  they  hide  their  faults  from  their  own 
eyes,  —  through  which  a  degrading  vice  may  be  made 
to  appear  a  small  and  an  easily  pardoned  offense. 
They  rather  incline  to  hold  it  firmly,  and  to  their  pet 
vices  they  give  some  circumscribing  or  facetious  ap- 
pellation, lest  its  true  name  should  shock  their  sensi- 
bilities too  much.  Thus  a  man  is  not  drunk;  he  is 


The  Ideal  Virtues.  91 

"three  sheets  in  the  wind,"  "a  little  mellow,"  etc. 
Yet  how  disgusted  is  every  one  when  a  woman  has 
taken  enough  of  any  alcoholic  drink  to  be  distinctly 
affected  hy  it.  Such  a  woman  is  always  simply 
"drunk."  In  the  case  of  men  the  disgusting  vice  is 
veiled,  for  men  have  felt  only  too  often  that  they 
might  some  time  be  found  in  a  similar  condition  them- 
selves. With  women  the  offense  is  so  rare  that  it  is 
seen  in  its  true  and  utterly  repulsive  light,  and  there- 
fore a  drunken  woman  is  always  "drunk."  No 
doubt  women  are  less  often  "drunk,"  because  giving 
this  offense  its  right  name  produces  such  disgust 
that  they  more  easily  overcome  any  temptation 
toward  indulgence. 

In  the  same  way  men  and  women  hide  from  their 
own  eyes  their  dishonesty,  selfishness,  uncharitable- 
ness,  by  such  adages  as  "  Business  is  business,"  "  Let 
each  look  out  for  number  one,"  etc.  Even  highway  rob- 
bery and  murder  undergo  this  transformation.  In 
mining  districts  a  man  does  not  wantonly  commit 
murder,  he  "  draws  a  bead  on  his  man,"  and  the  rob- 
ber becomes  a  "  road  agent." 

Yet  truthfulness  is  a  necessary  foundation  for  all 
virtue.  Whatever  lacks  this  foundation  is  falsehood. 
To  be  truthful,  man  must  be  what  he  appears  to  be, 
and  he  must  have  the  courage  to  see  himself  as  he  is, 
and  to  present  himself  to  others  in  that  light.  It  is 
not  necessary,  in  order  to  be  truthful,  that  a  man 
should  expose  all  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  but  he 
must,  as  far  as  is  in  his  power,  give  others  the  oppor- 
tunity of  estimating  at  their  true  value  those  thoughts, 
words,  and  deeds  of  which  they  become  cognizant. 


92  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

Thus  he  must  not  let  others  think  that  the  large  do- 
nation which  he  gave  as  a  matter  of  policy  or  as  a 
business  advertisement  was  prompted  by  generosity. 
He  should  never  speak  of  it  as  a  gift  of  charity,  but 
should  frankly  expose  his  motives,  lest  others  be  de- 
ceived. A  truthful  man  is  truthful  in  small  as  well 
as  in  great  things,  in  thought  and  deed,  as  well  as  in 
word.  He  would  prefer  to  hear  an  unpleasant  truth 
rather  than  a  pleasant  untruth.  To  him  the  truth  is 
always  welcome.  The  truthful  man  will  not  fall  into 
the  opposite  extreme  of  depreciating  himself  and  all 
his  deeds.  Rarely  will  man  do  this  in  his  own  esti- 
mation; often  in  conversation  with  others.  This  is  as 
much  an  act  of  deception  as  is  overestimation.  By 
the  truthfnl  man  the  truth  is  fairly  and  honestly 
sought  and  given  in  all  things. 

HONESTY  may  be  considered  as  truthfulness  applied 
to  the  material  things  of  life,  to  the  "  mine  and  thine." 
The  honest  man  desires  that  the  right  shall  prevail. 
Opinions  of  right  differ,  but  a  man  who  is  truthful  and 
honest  has  learned  to  know  the  power  which  self- 
interest  exerts  upon  all  minds,  and  he  will  therefore 
be  watchful  that  it  does  not  blind  him  to  the  rights  of 
others  in  matters  of  property.  He  will  eschew  all 
doubtful  means  of  obtaining  wealth.  It  is  surprising 
how  many  business  methods  now  in  vogue  must  be 
rejected  by  the  strictly  honest  man.  Among  these  are 
all  those  various  gambling  operations  and  all  specu- 
lation in  which  a  man  invariably  hopes  to  obtain 
money  or  its  equivalent  for  which  he  does  not  intend 
to  make  a  fair  return. 


The  Ideal  Virtues.  93 

HUMILITY  is  truthfulness  united  to  appreciation  of 
our  own  littleness  compared  with  the  Ideal  in  its 
grandeur.  Those  who  are  truly  humble  will  feel  this 
littleness  even  when  they  are  called  to  high  positions. 
They  will  not  be  elated  by  their  success,  but  they  will 
feel  that  the  higher  position  calls  for  greater  watch- 
fulness in  fulfilling  the  higher  duties.  They  will  in 
this  way  become  humbled  rather  than  elated  by  pro- 
motion. 

We  find  many  men  in  high  positions  living  up  to 
the  maxim  that  "  might  is  right."  Most  educated 
people  would  be  ashamed  to  confess  that  they  act 
upon  this  principle,  but  there  are  few  persons  called  to 
positions  of  power  who  can  remain  servants  and  not 
indulge  their  imagination  in  the  pleasant  sense  of 
mastery.  In  his  novel,  "  The  Lost  Manuscript,"  Gus- 
tave  Freitag  makes  an  exhaustive  psychological  study 
of  a  peculiar  form  of  insanity  which  he  calls  the 
"  Caesarean  malady."  The  author's  research  has  ex- 
tended only  to  crowned  autocrats,  whose  malady  is 
easily  traced  in  history.  Such  rulers  as  Nero,  Henry 
VIII,  Louis  XIV,  Elizabeth  of  England,  and  Catherine 
of  Russia  are  representative  types.  Yet  the  Csesarean 
malady  does  not  attack  only  royal  autocrats,  but  with 
few  exceptions  it  attacks  all  who  have  absolute  power 
over  others.  They  are  to  be  found  in  the  home,  the 
school,  the  office,  on  board  ship,  etc.  Only  truthful, 
humble  men  can  escape  the  disease;  a  conceited,  vain- 
glorious man  falls  most  easily  its  victim.  Of  all  our 
Presidents,  Abraham  Lincoln  was  the  only  one  who 
appointed  a  personal  enemy  to  a  position  in  his  Cabi- 
net. He  considered  Edwin  Stanton  the  right  man  for 


94  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

the  difficult  position,  and  was  humble  enough  to  be 
just  even  to  an  enemy,  and  thus  to  his  country. 

Justness  may  be  denned  as  truthfulness  combined 
with  honesty  and  humility.  It  is  the  crown  of  all 
virtues.  In  the  Bible  the  children  of  God  are  called 
"  the  just." 

To  be  just,  a  man  must  be  humble,  for  only  humility 
gives  him  the  power  to  put  himself  in  another's  place, 
and  look  at  things  from  his  point  of  view.  A  just 
man  will  judge  actions  according  to  the  motive  which 
prompted  them,  and  he  will  be  careful  to  consider  the 
education  and  environment  of  another  before  con- 
demning him  for  having  low  motives. 

Only  a  just  man  will  be  able  to  judge  impartially 
even  a  person  who  has  forfeited  all  claims  to  respect, 
or  persons  belonging  to  a  despised  race  or  elass,  as,  for 
instance,  Indians  or  tramps.  A  just  man  will  con- 
sider the  rights  of  all  creatures;  the  more  helpless 
these  may  be,  the  more  in  need  are  they  of  an  honest, 
firm,  humane  judge.  Justness  is  not  alone  needed  in 
the  courtroom,  but  even  more  in  the  home,  the  school, 
the  social  circle.  Untold  injustice  is  committed  by 
well-meaning,  self-satisfied  men  and  women  who  can- 
not put  themselves  into  the  place  of  another. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
THE   SOCIAL   VIRTUES. 

THE  second  great  ethical  law,  "  Love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself,"  is  explained  in  the  Golden  Rule.  It  may  be 
impossible  to  love  those  who  have  wronged  us  or  those 
who  have  destroyed  our  happiness,  yet  we  can  treat 
them  justly  and  with  consideration,  as  we  want  to  be 
treated  by  them. 

Man  is  a  social  being.  For  his  happiness  he  re- 
quires the  presence  of  his  fellow-men.  He  cannot  en- 
joy life  alone,  and  in  his  sorrows  he  longs  for  the  sym- 
pathy of  others.  This  is  natural,  instinctive.  No 
man  is  so  degraded  or  so  hardened  that  he  has  no 
trace  of  this  feeling  left,  and  it  is  one  of  the  first  ex- 
pressions of  the  awakening  intelligence. 

As  soon  as  the  child  becomes  conscious  of  itself,  it 
desires  the  sympathy  of  its  mother.  Her  kiss  heals 
the  bruised  finger;  her  song  lulls  him  to  sleep;  when 
he  is  alone  he  cries  for  her  presence.  Soon  he  wishes 
to  share  his  joy  as  well  as  his  grief  with  her;  her  smile 
calls  forth  his  laughter,  and  he  insists  upon  putting 
his  candy  into  her  mouth.  As  he  grows  older  he  takes 
an  interest  in  her  grief,  and  when  he  sees  her  sad  he 
weeps  with  her  or  tries  to  comfort  her.  Thus  the  de- 
sire to  receive  sympathy  is  early  accompanied  by  the 
reciprocal  desire  to  give  it;  one  completes  and  rounds 
out  the  other,  and  these  develop  into  the  Love  of  Man, 
the  source  of  the  social  virtues. 

95 


96  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

This  love  is  the  source  of  man's  greatest  happiness. 
What  beauty  gives  to  the  material  world,  love  gives 
to  the  moral  nature.  Beauty  and  love  are  naturally 
associated,  and  the  object  of  our  affections  becomes 
beautiful  in  our  eyes.  Love  is  the  sun  which  brightens 
human  life.  As  the  sun  illuminates  dark  places  and 
drives  away  shadows,  so  the  reciprocal  love  and  in- 
terest between  man  and  man  bring  joy  and  happiness 
where  there  was  sorrow,  and  lightens,  where  it  canno* 
remove,  grief.  The  sun's  rays  break  into  many  colors, 
each  having  its  own  particular  beauty,  lending  variety 
to  the  objects  of  nature;  so  Love  of  Man  is  the  source 
of  various  virtues,  each  adding  its  part  to  the  general 
happiness  and  advancement  of  mankind. 

From  love  spring  Sympathy,  Kindness,  Generosity, 
Consideration,  Self-forgetfulness,  Gratitude,  Patriotism. 
Where  these  enter  actively  into  human  life,  driving 
out  avarice,  jealousy,  envy,  hatred,  it  obtains  an  ele- 
ment of  completeness  which  can  never  be  given  by 
the  development  of  any  other  faculties.  Even  the 
cultivation  of  the  highest  virtues,  other  than  the  social 
ones,  can  never  supply  that  possibility  of  pure  human 
happiness  which  comes  through  these.  Gratitude  for 
benefits  received  calls  forth  the  desire  to  repay  them; 
it  is  the  source  of  patriotism,  which  is  a  gratitude 
toward  the  country  from  which  a  man  has  received 
sustenance  and  protection.  Filial  affection  is  a  form 
of  gratitude,  — the  highest  form;  but  it  can  hardly  be 
called  a  virtue,  as  it  is  a  natural  instinct,  belonging  to 
all  normal  human  beings. 

Certain  good  men  have  been  spoken  of  as  great 
philanthropists,  just  as  we  speak  of  great  painters  or 


The  Social  Virtues.  97 

great  musicians.  Friendship  for  mankind  would  seem 
to  be  a  natural  condition,  for  most  children  have 
kindly  inclinations  and  enjoy  the  consciousness  of  be- 
ing helpful  to  others;  yet  philanthropy  is  a  rare  virtue. 
Why  is  this  so? 

As  a  rule,  children  are  generous  by  nature.  As  gen- 
erosity, however,  does  not  help,  but  rather  hinders, 
"  getting  along  in  the  world,"  parents  teach  systemati- 
cally, by  precept  and  example,  the  desirability  of 
sharp  business  habits  and  the  necessity  for  selfishness 
in  the  struggle  for  existence,  expressed  by  the  phrase, 
"  Always  take  care  of  number  one."  This  is  unfortunate, 
but  it  has  its  reasons.  The  present  competitive  indus- 
trial system  justifies  parents  in,  almost  forces  them  to, 
this  mode  of  action,  if  they  are  to  prepare  their  chil- 
dren for  the  struggle  that  awaits  them  in  after  life. 

It  has  been  said,  man  must  be  either  "  a  hammer  or 
an  anvil";  which  means  that  he  must  either  beat 
or  be  beaten:  either  push  others,  or  be  pushed  to  the 
wall  himself.  This  battle  against  such  terrible  odds 
it  is  which  makes  of  human  beings,  naturally  well- 
disposed,  and  even  of  generous  persons,  hard  rivals  or 
unyielding  and  merciless  taskmasters. 

It  is  asserted  that  only  a  small  proportion  of  those 
who  engage  in  business  succeed  in  obtaining  a  com- 
petence. The  perpetual  grinding  struggle  of  those  who 
barely  obtain  a  living,  and  are  continually  harassed 
by  the  fear  of  losing  their  sustenance,  is  pitiful  in  the 
extreme.  What  wonder,  then,  that  parents  wish  to  save 
their  children  from  the  struggle  which  they  themselves 
may  have  bitterly  felt,  and  so  do  all  they  can  to  enable 
them  to  reach  that  upper  stratum  of  the  successful 


98  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

"  three  per  cent "  ?  What  wonder  that  they  early  teach 
them  to  throw  overboard,  as  obstructive  and  undesir- 
able ballast,  all  those  natural  tendencies  which  would 
make  them  more  thoughtful  for  the  man  whom  they 
must  elbow  out  of  the  way  if  they  themselves  would 
reach  the  desired  goal? 

This  danger  and  fear  of  want  make  selfishness  and 
trickery  seemingly  necessary  among  ordinary  men, 
who  are  not  endowed  with  exceptional  business 
capacity. 

Fear  of  want  is  a  great  incentive  to  crime,  and  often 
the  grave  of  all  nobler  aspirations;  too  often  the 
grave  of  the  social  virtues.  On  the  other  hand,  upon 
this  soil  flourish  envy  of  another's  success,  "  Brodneid" 
("bread-envy"),  jealousy,  hatred,  dishonesty,  which 
embitter  and  destroy  the  pleasure  man  should,  and 
otherwise  would,  feel  over  the  success  of  others. 

With  these  impressions  of  life  children  grow  up,  and 
so  they  lose  the  open-hearted  generosity  which  is  the 
birthright  of  man.  Were  it  not  for  this,  every  man, 
almost,  would  be  a  philanthropist.  As  it  is,  only 
those  who  originally  possessed  those  social  virtues  in 
a  greater  degree,  or  in  whom  the  circumstances  of 
early  life  favored  a  different  development,  or  both, 
reach  the  position  which  all  should  attain,  and  exem- 
plify the  possibilities  of  a  humanity  different  from 
that  which  we  now  know. 

Of  these  was  Louis  Agassiz.  He  was  one  of  nature's 
noblemen.  He  was  brought  up  under  rarely  fortunate 
surroundings.  All  men  were  to  him  as  brothers,  and 
his  kindness  and  justness  extended  to  the  animal 
world.  Every  little  living  being  was  to  him  an  object 


The  Social  Virtues,  99 

of  loving  human  interest;  and  so  kindly  did  he  treat 
them  all,  that  it  was  said  that  serpents,  birds,  insects, 
soon  came  at  his  desire. 

In  all  animals  Agassiz  saw  living  creatures  worthy 
of  thoughtful  care  and  kindly  consideration;  but  in 
all  men  he  saw  brothers,  and  he  never  forgot  to  treat 
the  lowest  or  most  illiterate  among  them  with 
the  courtesy  and  respect  which  the  dignity  of  his  hu- 
manity deserved. 

In  society  he  was  not  a  brilliant  man,  but  wherever 
he  was  his  happy  spirit  warmed  and  gladdened  all 
who  came  under  its  influence. 

Such  a  character  shows  what  a  human  life  can  and 
should  be.  True,  it  may  not  yet,  under  existing  con- 
ditions, be  possible  for  many  men  to  reach  so  high  a 
standard,  but  may  we  not  hope  that,  as  these  condi- 
tions improve,  the  few  isolated  examples  of  to-day  may 
be  typical  of  the  majority  of  mankind  at  a  not  too 
distant  future?  At  all  events,  the  possible  ideal  which 
has  been  reached  by  a  few  should  be  looked  upon  as 
the  standard  to  be  aspired  to  by  all. 

The  struggle  for  material  existence  is  still  too  in- 
tense to  leave  the  moral  nature  opportunities  for  per- 
fect unfolding.  But  much  improvement  in  that  line 
is  even  now  possible.  The  failure  to  reach  a  higher 
standard  of  morality  than  that  at  present  attained  is 
often  due  to  ignorance.  When  teachers  shall  have  be- 
come deeply  interested  in  elevating  the  moral  standard 
and  cultivating  the  social  virtues,  then  a  higher  level 
will  be  reached  by  all. 

Love  of  Man  is  the  source  of  the  greatest  human 
happiness,  even  now.  How  happy  are  those  families 


100  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

in  which  parents,  sons,  and  daughters  are  all  united 
by  bonds  of  unselfish  love,  where  one  stands  for  all 
and  all  for  one,  where  true  friendship  and  sympathy 
exist,  even  though  many  different  interests  are  repre- 
sented. 

How  happy  and  how  fortunate  is  the  man  or  woman 
who  possesses  a  true  friend,  —  a  friend  to  whom  to  give 
all, — a  friend  from  whom  to  accept  all, — a  friend  to 
whom  to  go  for  consolation  in  sorrow,  advice  in  trouble, 
joyous  sympathy  in  happiness.  And  what  pleasure, 
not  only  to  receive,  but  to  give,  such  friendship,  for- 
getting the  amount  given  in  the  joy  of  giving,  as  the 
amount  received  in  the  joy  of  receiving. 

Such  friendship  is  rare  at  present.  Perhaps  the 
mass  of  mankind  is  not  yet  capable  of  it.  As  man 
rises  higher  in  the  moral  scale  he  will  perceive  more 
clearly  the  happiness  to  be  gained  for  himself  and 
others  through  the  exercise  of  the  social  virtues,  and 
then,  with  improved  social  conditions,  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  such  friendships  may  be  the  rule,  instead  of  the 
exception,  among  mankind. 

But  not  friendship  only  is  to  be  considered.  How 
much  of  happiness,  or  the  opposite,  does  not  man  re- 
ceive through  those  who  are  not  particularly  near  and 
dear  to  him.  The  pleasant  smile,  the  cordial  greeting, 
the  friendly  advice,  the  helpful  hand,  the  considera- 
tion of  manner  which  remembers  not  only  the  welfare 
of  others,  but  also  their  feelings,  the  readiness  to  help 
up,  instead  of  pushing  down, — all  these  go  to  increase 
the  sum  of  human  happiness,  even  now. 

While  at  present  perfect  development  of  the  social 
virtues  is  impracticable  without  serious  injury  to  self- 


The  Social  Virtues.  101 

interests,  yet,  even  now,  much  can  be  done  —  much 
more  than  is  done  —  to  make  life  happier.  It  is  un- 
questionably true  that— 

"  More  offend  from  want  of  thought 
Than  from  any  want  of  feeling." 

This  want  of  thought,  therefore,  is  one  of  the  things 
which  it  will  be  the  teacher's  province  to  correct. 

BENEVOLENCE,  or  good  will,  is  one  of  the  foundation 
feelings  of  the  social  virtues.  True  good  will  towards 
others,  what  can  it  not  do?  It  is  the  keynote  in  the 
harmony  of  man's  social  happiness,  and  all  kind  deeds 
that  have  been  performed,  all  noble  and  self-sacrificing 
deeds,  have  been  produced  in  part  by  this  ennobling 
feeling  of  good  will.  But  good  will  alone  is  not  very 
effective.  A  man  may  have  much  good  will  towards 
others,  but  if  he  have  still  more  towards  himself,  it  will 
not  prevent  him  from  being  selfish  in  his  actions;  and 
this  selfishness  is  the  more  objectionable  when  it  is 
constantly  accompanied  by  words  of  benevolence  which 
may  be  honestly  meant,  —  i.e.,  that  they  are  not 
prompted  by  a  spirit  of  hypocrisy;  but  they  are  never- 
theless often  utterly  at  variance  with  the  man's  actions. 

Such  false  benevolence  may  deceive  not  only  the 
man  himself  into  the  belief  that  he  is  really  noble, 
true,  unselfish,  and  highly  benevolent,  but  others  also. 
He  deceives  by  his  words  and  manner,  and  also  by  occa- 
sional injudicious  acts  of  charity  which  he  sometimes 
performs,  less  from  a  desire  to  benefit  the  person  upon 
whom  it  is  bestowed,  than  to  awaken  in  others  and 
himself  the  admiration  which  generosity  usually  calls 
forth.  A  benevolent  man  of  this  sort  loves  to  give  of 
that  which  he  does  not  need,  because  to  give  is  "  god- 


102  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

like,"  and  to  give  alms  to  the  poor  greatly  exalts  the 
giver.  Hence  benevolence  is  of  two  kinds:  the  true 
and  the  false,  —  good  will  and  good  wish. 

As  has  been  said,  true  benevolence,  to  be  useful, 
must  be  directed  in  its  actions  by  judgment.  Yet  bet- 
ter is  this,  when  combined  with  self-forgetfulness,  even 
without  being  so  directed,  than  the  spurious  article, 
which  needs  no  directing,  there  being  not  enough  of 
real  good  will  in  it  ever  to  influence  actions,  or  to  do 
more  than  to  produce  a  crop  of  fine-sounding  words. 

KINDNESS  is  an  active  good  will,  manifesting  itself  in 
a  desire  to  do  that  which  will  give  others  pleasure  and 
benefit.  It  is  always  prompted  by  a  feeling  of  sym- 
pathy, so  cheering  and  pleasant  in  all  friendly  inter- 
course. Kindness  is  the  small  coin  of  life,  making 
pleasant  and  convenient  all  the  little  interchanges  of 
service  which  are  necessary  between  man  and  man. 
Nor  does  kindness  consider  whether  an  equivalent  has 
been  rendered  for  services  given. 

Kindness  extends  itself  to  the  animal  kingdom., 
Rarely  will  any  one  who  is  kind  to  man  be  unkind  to 
a  dumb  brute  depending  upon  him,  or  which  is  acci- 
dentally in  his  power.  And  the  converse  holds  equally 
true:  the  man  who  is  kind  to  animals  will  usually  be 
still  more  so  to  his  fellow-men,  while  the  one  who 
forgets  that  animals  are  entitled  to  kind  treatment 
can  hardly  be  trusted  to  treat  with  kindness  the  weak 
of  his  own  race.  The  boy  who  tortures  a  dog,  or 
pulls  out  the  legs  of  the  hapless  fly,  or  throws  stones 
at  a  horse  that  cannot  escape  him,  has  a  great  many 
lessons  to  learn  in  kindness. 


The  Social  Virtues.  103 

GENEROSITY  consists  of  a  free  and  ready  giving  of 
that  which  one  has  to  give  and  values.  This  does 
not  always  mean  the  giving  of  money.  Many  a  man 
who  has  wealth,  and  places  no  value  upon  it,  will  give 
it  as  freely  as  water  to  those  who  know  how  to  flatter 
him;  this  is  not  generosity.  The  man  may  be  any- 
thing but  generous.  He  may  give  of  money,  yet  may 
be  utterly  unable  to  forgive  the  least  wounding  of  his 
self-love,  the  least  act  which  he  considers  as  a  slight 
or  injury.  Such  a  man  is  not  generous.  The  gener- 
ous man  gives  freely  whatever  he  can  to  increase  the 
happiness  of  others,  and  so  increases  his  own;  for  in 
giving  others  pleasure  he  finds  his.  Not  only  does  he 
give  money,  but  time,  thought,  consideration;  and  a 
generous  man  is  ever  ready  to  forget  a  wrong,  never 
holding  tenaciously  to  the  memory  of  an  injury  re- 
ceived. 

Generosity  may  go  too  far.  In  trying  to  assist 
others  a  man  may  forget  not  only  his  own  good, — 
this  he  has,  in  one  sense,  a  moral  right  to  do,  —  but 
also  the  welfare  of  those  who  have  direct  claims  upon 
him.  Such  generosity  is  very  rare,  as  all  the  child's 
education  is  directed  towards  preventing  it;  but  when 
found,  it  sometimes  causes  much  unpleasantness  in  the 
family  circle.  We  are  bound  by  the  second  great  ethi- 
cal law  to  do  unto  others  only  as  we  would  have  them 
do  unto  us;  and  surely  we  should  be  unwilling  to  accept 
from  others  what  they  need  more  than  we  do  ourselves. 

CONSIDERATION.  Perhaps  no  quality  among  the 
social  virtues  causes  so  much  of  direct  happiness  to  all 
with  whom  a  man  comes  in  contact  as  the  exercise  of 
this  quality  of  consideration.  Consideration  is  kind- 


104  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

ness  united  with  thoughtfulness.  It  may  be  denned 
as  an  intellectual  kindness.  As  the  virtues  are  every- 
where enhanced  in  value  and  effectiveness  by  being 
united  with  mental  qualities,  so  it  is  here.  Consider- 
ation is  superior  to  mere  kindness.  Many  a  person  is 
kind,  but  forgets  to  be  considerate;  every  considerate 
person  is  also  kind. 

The  considerate  man  not  only  does  the  kind  deed 
which  he  sees  is  needed,  but  he  also  does  it  in  such  a 
way  that  it  will  be  pleasant  to  the  receiver.  He  re- 
members of  the  Golden  Rule,  not  the  letter  only,  and 
puts  himself  completely  into  the  other's  place,  forget- 
ting every  feeling  of  selfish  gratification  at  being  the 
one  to  do  the  kindness.  He  makes  all  his  words  and 
actions  show  the  thought  he  takes  for  the  satisfaction 
of  the  other,  as  if  it  were  himself.  Almost  every  man  is 
considerate  of  himself  and  his  own  feelings.  How 
careful  he  is  when  he  finds  fault  with  himself,  remem- 
bering to  bring  forward  all  the  excuses  which  he  rea- 
sonably can;  how  he  seeks  for  and  brings  out  his 
best  motives;  in  receiving  kindnesses  from  others,  how 
successfully  he  persuades  himself  that  he  is  entitled 
to  them.  The  considerate  man  does  all  this  for  his 
neighbor,  and  in  all  his  intercourse  with  him,  both  of 
a  business  and  of  a  social  character,  he  has  his  neigh- 
bor's feelings  in  view,  and,  where  practicable  and  pos- 
sible, also  his  interest. 

GRATITUDE.  Gratitude  for  benefits  received  is  an- 
other of  the  social  virtues  which  needs  to  be  cultivated. 
From  the  day  of  his  birth  to  the  day  of  his  death,  man 
is  indebted  to  others  for  a  thousand  services  which  he 
must  return,  partly  in  kind,  partly  only  through  a 


The  Social  Virtues.  105 

sense  of  his  obligation,  which  produces  an  affectionate 
remembrance  of  the  services  rendered. 

Gratitude  is  an  instinctive  feeling,  and  is  strong  in 
the  higher  animals  and  in  most  of  the  savage  races. 
Among  the  latter,  ingratitude  is  generally  stigmatized 
as  one  of  the  lowest  of  vices.  Among  civilized  men, 
competition  has  become  so  great,  the  undignified 
scramble  —  no  other  word  will  express  it — for  wealth 
and  position  is  so  active  and  intense,  that  men  for- 
get only  too  often  the  promptings  of  this  fundamental 
feeling,  and  ruthlessly  push  aside  and  out  of  the  way 
the  very  man  who  gave  them  the  initial  impulse  toward 
success.  Yet  a  strong,  deep  gratitude  is  often  found 
even  among  these  competing  rivals,  which  colors  a 
person's  action  for  years,  perhaps  for  life. 

PATRIOTISM  is  gratitude  toward  the  country  which 
has  given  the  man  a  home  and  sustenance.  It  is,  like 
ordinary  gratitude,  inborn,  nourished  by  lifelong 
associations,  and  developed,  in  its  higher  form,  into  a 
strong  and  deep  affection  for  the  country  and  its  in- 
stitutions. Patriotism,  more  than  any  other  one  virtue, 
has  inspired  thousands,  yea,  millions,  of  men  and 
women  to  sacrifice  life,  wealth,  position,  everything, 
for  the  country  they  love.  Strongest,  most  powerful, 
most  noble,  has  patriotism  always  been  under  demo- 
cratic governments. 

SENTIMENTALITY.  A  few  words  on  this  subject  may 
not  be  amiss.  Where  there  is  anything  true,  there  is 
always  something  false  to  simulate  it.  Sentimentality 
may  try  to  receive  honors  by  imitating  her  nobler  sis- 
ter, Sentiment.  Sentimentality  shows  itself  in  various 
ways.  The  benevolence  which  is  only  on  the  lips; 


106  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

the  kindness  towards  animals  which  forgets  reason  and 
the  right  and  dignity  of  humanity, — as  when  a  buxom 
girl  exclaimed,  with  meekly  upturned  eyes,  that  she 
"could  never  love  any  one  who  could  deliberately  kill 
a  mosquito," — these  are  examples  of  sentimentality. 

It  is  the  sentimental  persons  who  go  about  pauper- 
izing the  poor,  and  degrading  themselves  by  alms- 
giving,—  alms-giving,  where  they  should  give  either 
work,  or  cheerfully  a  part  of  themselves  in  thought, 
kindnesSj  and  consideration,  which  should  accompany 
assistance  to  a  needy  fellow-creature.  So-called  "alms- 
giving," in  ninety-nine  per  cent  of  the  cases  in  which  it 
does  not  come  from  a  simple  desire  for  honor  and  credit, 
has  its  origin  in  sentimentality  only.  The  giving 
which  proceeds  from  true  love  of  man,  true  generosity, 
true  sentiment,  does  not  call  or  consider  itself  "alms- 
giving," but  only  needful  help. 

There  is  a  sentimental  kindness  toward  "the  poor," 
or  to  "inferiors,"  which  is  too  often  mistaken  for  gen- 
uine kindness  and  generosity  of  feeling.  This  senti- 
mentality never  for  a  moment  forgets  the  wide  gulf 
fixed  between  the  person  giving  it  and  the  one  to  whom 
it  is  extended.  It  is  an  utterly  unworthy  feeling, 
which,  though  it  may  not  always  offend  the  latter, 
must  of  necessity  degrade  the  former,  for  it  is  based 
upon  a  conception  of  humanity  which  is  in  itself  low- 
ering to  the  nature  of  man. 

The  person  who  thus  kindly  condescends  to  "stoop" 
to  an  "inferior"  will  himself  bow  down  humbly  before 
a  "  superior,"  and  in  this  humility  there  will  be  as 
little  of  self-respect — of  dignified  manhood  or  woman- 
hood—  as  there  was  in  his  condescending  kindness 
towards  the  "inferior." 


The  Social  Virtues.  107 

Sentimentality  is  false,  and  everything  false  is 
always,  and  under  all  circumstances,  lowering  and 
degrading  to  the  moral  nature.  This,  then,  teachers 
should  earnestly  and  carefully  guard  against;  and 
while  in  every  way  training  and  maturing  true  en- 
nobling sentiment,  they  should  uproot  and  cast  away 
into  the  uttermost  darkness  all  false  "gush"  and 
sentimentality. 

This  is  most  happily  expressed  by  Miss  Jane  Ad- 
dams,  founder  of  the  first  college  settlement  of  Chicago . 
She  says,  "There  is  nothing  more  dangerous  than 
being  good  to  people.  You  must  be  good  with  people. 
Here  lies  the  secret  of  the  success  of  a  college  settle- 
ment." 


flart 

CHAPTER  I. 
METHODS  OF  REACHING  THE  CHILD. 

THE  course  in  ethics  differs  from  that  of  any  other 
branch  of  study,  because  the  question  of  right  and 
wrong  is  a  constant  consideration  in  the  life  of  a  child. 
He  may  be  able  to  put  aside  all  thought  of  arithmetic, 
grammar,  geography,  or  spelling  when  he  leaves  his 
schoolroom;  but  this  question  of  the  right  and  wrong 
of  things  follows  him  even  to  his  game-ground;  it  is  a 
consideration  which  is  constant  with  all  normal  chil- 
dren, and  for  that  reason  a  frank  study  of  the  subject 
is  of  interest  to  them. 

In  teaching  morality  it  is  very  important  that  the 
faculty  of  imagination  be  cultivated.  The  develop- 
ment of  this  powerful  factor  in  training  is  too  often 
neglected.  Imagination  brings  poetry  and  sunshine 
into  the  world  of  the  child;  it  transforms  the  bundle 
of  rags  into  a  beautiful  baby,  or  the  stick  into  a  pran- 
cing steed.  The  child  is  carried  out  of  his  humdrum 
existence  into  a  world  peopled  by  heroes  and  heroines, 
whose  feats  of  valor  or  whose  irresistible  charms  are 
copied  from  stories  which  have  been  heard  or  read. 
For  very  imaginative  children  there  is  great  danger  in 
this  day-dreaming.  When  awakened  to  face  the  dis- 
agreeable realities  of  life,  they  are  disgusted,  and  can- 
not control  their  ill-humor,  because  of  the  contrast 
between  fancy  and  reality.  They  are  then  likely  to 
compare  their  conditions  with  those  of  more  favored 

108 


Methods  of  Reaching  the  Child.  109 

companions,  and  thus  fall  into  the  deplorable  habit  of 
self-pity.  This  is  fatal  to  happiness;  no  more  unfor- 
tunate creature  can  be  imagined  than  one  who  per- 
sists in  self-pitying  reflections  as  to  the  poor  chances 
in  life  which  he  may  have  had,  the  lack  of  means  to 
carry  out  his  ambitions,  or  the  great  good  which  he 
might  have  done  had  he  been  in  certain  desirable 
conditions  of  life.  Many  thus  waste  their  whole  lives 
in  a  vain  longing  for  the  unattainable  advantages 
which  physical  charms  or  great  wealth  alone  can 
give.  If  the  imagination  has  thus  been  allowed  to 
degenerate  into  phantasy,  it  is  difficult  to  bring  it 
under  control  later;  yet,  without  a  trained  imagina- 
tion, the  attainment  of  the  false  ideas  which  reign  in 
this  world  of  fancy  will  become  the  motive  of  the  en- 
tire life.  If,  however,  the  imagination  is  trained  in 
youth,  it  will  clothe  dry  facts  with  beauty,  and  make 
hard  study  a  delight.  In  this  way  it  will  serve  to 
idealize  the  real  conditions  and  facts  of  life,  so  that 
children's  eyes  may  be  opened  to  the  poetry  which  is 
possible  everywhere.  Children  should  learn  to  see 
that  the  mastery  of  self,  the  victory  of  truth  over  false- 
hood on  the  battle-field  of  each  inner  life,  is  a  greater 
triumph  than  the  taking  of  a  city.  When  they  have 
learned  to  appreciate  the  chances  which  their  simple 
every-day  life  offers  for  greatness,  they  will  usually 
leave  off  day-dreaming  and  wishing  for  things  as  they 
are  not,  and  never  can  be. 

True  happiness  lies  in  the  real  things  of  life, — those 
which  are  in  our  power  to  change.    Epictetus  the  Stoic 


"The  lord  of  each  of  us  is  he  that  hath  power  over 


110  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

the  things  which  we  desire  or  dislike,  to  give  or  to 
take  away.  Whosoever,  then,  will  be  free,  let  him 
neither  desire  nor  shun  any  of  the  things  that  are  in 
others'  power;  otherwise  he  must  needs  be  enslaved." 

A  teacher  who  is  filled  with  the  desire  to  "  make  the 
real,  ideal,"  will  teach  his  pupils  to  feel  that  nothing 
has  a  greater  value  than  a  life  spent  for  a  great  idea. 
He  will  make  them  understand  that  there  is  no  com- 
parison between  the  greatness  of  such  men  as  Frobel 
and  Jay  Gould.  Few  of  us  will  be  as  well  known  as 
is  Frobel,  yet  all  can  be  as  true  and  brave  and  useful 
as  he  was.  Each  one  of  us  can  be  one  in  life  and 
motive  with  the  greatest  men  of  all  times. 

A  few  more  suggestions  as  to  ways  and  means  of 
presenting  the  subject  of  ethics  to  children  may  be 
useful  here. 

Four  general  lines  of  work  will  be  discussed  in  this 
connection. 

1.  The   childish  habit  of   repeating  over  and  over 
again  some  rhythmic  verse  or  sentence  may  serve  a 
good  purpose  by  giving  children  beautiful  poems  and 
short  prose  selections  to  commit  to  memory. 

2.  They  should  study  the  lives  of  the  noblest  men  and 
women  of  all  times.     This  gives  a  conception  of  "  ethics 
in  the  concrete."     It  is  said  that,  next  to  fiction,  there 
is  now  the  greatest  demand  for  biographical  works  in 
our  public  libraries.     Especially  are  half-grown  boys 
and  girls  who   are  beginning  to  plan  for  the  future 
life-work  interested  in  these  true  stories  of  real  life. 
Stories   from   such  works  as  "  Whewell's  History  of 
Inductive  Science  "  are  also  useful,  as  they  show  the 
"  human  "  side  of  each  great  scientific  discovery,  and 
rouse  the  imagination  in  a  wholesome  way. 


Methods  of  Reaching  the  Child.  Ill 

3.  The  more  analytical  consideration  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  ethics,  as  will  naturally  be  suggested  by  the 
study  of  noble  and  useful  lives,  and  the  careful  study 
of  words  which  express  the  virtues  to  be  acquired. 

4.  The   special   duties   and   obligations  of  the  in- 
dividual should  be  studied  and  discussed  in  the  higher 
grades.     This  might  include  the  duties  of  the  domestic 
relations, — of  children  to  parents,  parents  to  children; 
the  duties  of  the  employer  to  his  employees,  and  vice 
versa;  of  the  business  man  to  his  patrons,  and  those  of 
the  citizen  toward  his  country. 

This  work  will  require  research  in  history  and  biog- 
raphy, and  will,  in  that  way,  be  the  means  of  making 
reading  and  discussion  a  pleasure  to  intelligent  young 
people. 

One  caution  here  may  not  be  entirely  amiss.  Never 
should  any  rules  or  principles  of  Morality  be  pre- 
sented in  an  argumentative  manner,  or  as  if  the  point 
taken  needed  proof.  The  use  of  the  circumflex,  or  the 
rising  inflection,  should  be  avoided  in  speaking  of 
moral  laws,  moral  necessities,  or  moral  duties.  The 
imagination  of  the  child  is  caught  by  positive  state- 
ments. Moreover,  it  is  a  peculiarity  of  all  unculti- 
vated minds  instinctively  to  doubt  any  statement 
which  is  supported  by  argument.  The  "this  must  be 
so  because  —  "  leads  to  the  unconscious  feeling  that  if 
there  is  any  necessity  for  reinforcing  the  opinion  ex- 
pressed by  a  "because,"  there  is  a  reasonable  doubt  of 
its  truth.  The  feeling  is  sometimes  so  strong  that  the 
argument  presented,  which  may  be  incontrovertible, 
is  entirely  lost  sight  of,  and  the  result  is  a  doubt  in 
the  mind  of  the  hearer.  The  statements  made  should, 
for  this  reason,  be  couched  in  positive  language  and 


112  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

end  with  the  falling  inflection.  Pupils  should  be 
called  upon  to  cite,  not  proofs  to  establish,  but  exam- 
ples to  illustrate  any  point  which  may  be  under  con- 
sideration. 

The  several  lines  of  work  mentioned  may  be  carried 
on  together,  especially  in  the  higher  grammar  schools; 
each  will  be  found  to  supplement  the  others. 

During  the  first  two  years  of  school  life  the  work  is 
necessarily  oral.  Poems  should  be  committed  to 
memory  and  stories  told  and  reproduced.  Not  until 
about  the  third  year  will  note-books  be  of  much  use. 
Into  these  all  poems  and  prose  selections  might  be 
copied  and  later  memorized.  We  do  too  little  memo- 
rizing of  the  old-fashioned,  exact  kind.  This  gives  an 
opportunity  to  store  the  memory  with  some  of  the 
gems  of  literature.  A  little  girl  once  committed  to 
memory  the  following  lines  from  "  Hiawatha  " :  — 

"  Ye  whose  hearts  are  fresh  and  simple, 
Who  have  faith  in  God  and  Nature, 
Who  believe,  that  in  all  ages 
Every  human  heart  is  human, 
That  in  even  savage  bosoms 
There  are  longings,  yearnings,  strivings, 
For  the  good  they  comprehend  not, 
That  the  feeble  hands  and  helpless, 
Groping  blindly  in  the  darkness, 
Touch  God's  right  hand  in  that  darkness 
And  are  lifted  up  and  strengthened." 

"  It  took  me  ten  years  to  understand  those  words," 
she  said  when  she  had  grown  to  womanhood,  "  but 
little  by  little  they  became  the  greatest  moral  factor 
of  my  life.  Small  prejudices  were  crowded  out  of  my 
mind;  a  great  sympathy  with  all  those  who,  like  my- 


Methods  of  Reaching  the  Child.  113 

self,  were  '  groping  blindly  in  the  darkness,'  an  ap- 
preciation of  the  t  hearts  that  are  fresh  and  simple,' 
and  the  feeling  that  the  whole  human  family  is  a  great 
brotherhood,  grew  strong  within  me.  All  this,  and 
more  than  I  can  say,  came  to  me  from  those  few  lines 
which  I  committed  to  memory  as  a  child,  because  the 
rhythm  pleased  me." 

A  class  of  third-year  children  had  copied  the  follow- 
ing from  Longfellow's  poem  on  the  "  Fiftieth  Birthday 
of  Agassiz,"  in  their  note-books:  — 

"  And  Nature,  the  old  nurse,  took 

The  child  upon  her  knee, 
Saying,  '  Here  is  a  story-book 
Thy  Father  has  written  for  thee. 

"  '  Come,  wander  with  me,'  she  said, 

*  Into  regions  yet  untrod  ; 
And  read  what  is  still  unread 
In  the  manuscripts  of  God.' 

"  And  he  wandered  away  and  away 

With  Nature,  the  dear  old  nurse, 
Who  sang  to  him  night  and  day 
The  rhymes  of  the  universe. 

"  And  whenever  the  way  seemed  long, 

And  his  heart  began  to  fail, 
She  would  sing  a  more  wonderful  song, 
Or  tell  a  more  marvelous  tale." 

The  children  read  the  poem;  only  here  and  there  a 
hint  was  given  as  to  what  the  story-book  was  which 
our  Father  had  written  for  us;  and  though  they  could 
not  express  it,  they  felt  from  their  previous  stories  about 
Agassiz's  life-work  what  the  "  manuscripts  of  God  " 


114  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

must  be.  There  are  few  poems  in  our  language  with 
words  so  simple,  yet  with  meanings  so  suggestive  of 
great  things. 

In  this  school  the  children  had  always  been  encour- 
aged to  recite  something  helpful,  or  to  tell  some  story 
which  they  themselves  had  read  from  the  "  manu- 
scripts of  God,"  as  an  opening  of  the  day's  work.  Upon 
the  morning  after  this  poem  had  been  read,  a  little 
boy  said  eagerly,  "  I  learned  that  poem  by  heart,  that 
we  had  yesterday!  "  In  reciting  it  his  voice  betrayed 
the  emotion  which  he  felt  as  his  mind  expanded  to 
take  in  the  great  meanings.  The  children  felt  the 
charm;  be  had  touched  all  hearts.  "  I  was  saying  it 
over  and  over  to  myself  all  day  yesterday,  even  in  my 
sleep,"  he  said  simply. 

The  good  in  memorizing  these  gems  of  thought  is 
life-lasting.  How  often  in  after  years,  when  a  great 
passion  or  deep  sorrow  is  holding  the  whole  inner  life 
almost  passive  with  pain,  will  some  poem,  freighted 
with  holy  meanings,  rise  up  in  the  mind  too  weary  to 
think,  and  bring  hope  and  comfort. 

All  teachers  know  how  eagerly  children  read  stories 
of  noble  men  and  women,  and  how  powerfully  true 
greatness  appeals  to  them.  It  proves  the  truth  of  the 
poet's  words,— 

"  'T  is  life  whereof  our  nerves  are  scant, 
More  life,  and  fuller,  that  we  want." 

Children  are  so  apt  to  think  that  heroes  are  only 
those  great  men  of  whom  we  read  in  history.  In  his 
"  Reminiscences  of  Brunson,"  Dr.  Max  Muller  says, 
"  He  is  a  great  man,  who  is  honest,  unselfish,  and 
brave."  With  this  estimate  in  mind,  children  will 


Methods  of  Reaching  the  Child.  115 

grow  to  appreciate  the  true  greatness  of  the  simple 
people  as  they  see  them  every  day.  The  kind,  hard- 
working man  who  is  always  trying  to  help  others  bear 
their  burdens,  forgetting  that  his  own  are  heavy;  the 
woman  with  the  great  mother-heart  that  takes  into 
her  sympathies  all. the  little  ones  living  near;  the 
thousand  unselfish,  brave  acts  which  they  did  not  no- 
tice before, —  all  these  will  become  significant  to  them, 
and  their  lives  will  be  wonderfully  enriched. 

This  estimate  of  greatness,  moreover,  excludes  many 
a  man  whom  they  might  be  inclined  to  admire  unduly 
for  deeds  of  physical  courage.  Morally,  a  fearless  man 
may  be  a  coward.  He  may  willingly  sacrifice  prin- 
ciples for  the  sake  of  being  popular,  or  he  may  be  dis- 
honest and  exceedingly  selfish.  They  will  find  that 
prominence  gained  by  courageous  acts  may  depend 
wholly  upon  a  powerful  physique.  With  the  loss  of 
health  and  strength  their  hero  may  be  shorn  of  all 
greatness. 

"  He  is  a  great  man,  who  is  honest,  unselfish,  and 
brave."  A  class  of  children  who  had  discussed  this 
added  the  following:  "There  are  many  great  men  of 
whom  the  world  hears  nothing."  They  had  learned 
from  Napoleon's  life  something  of  this  great  soldier's 
motives;  soon  after,  they  had  read  stories  from  the 
life  of  Samuel  Gridley  Howe,  —  his  soldier  career  in 
Greece, -his  work  for  the  blind,  and  the  education  of 
Laura  Bridgman,  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind.  Whittier's 
poem,  "  Oh,  for  a  Knight  like  Bayard,"  written  of  this 
noble  American,  had  been  studied,  and  partly  memo- 
rized. All  this  had  aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  tHe 
children.  During  an  informal  discussion,  a  boy  said, 


116  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

"I  think  Dr.  Howe  was  a  greater  man  than  Napoleon, 
don't  you?"  Before  answering,  the  teacher  asked, 
"Why  do  you  think  so?" — "Well,  he  was  every  bit  as 
brave  as  Napoleon,  and  then  he  was  unselfish  and 
honest,  while  Napoleon  was  just  always  fighting  for 
himself." 

It  might  be  argued  that  it  is  not  wise  to  lead  chil- 
dren to  think  so  seriously;  but  when  we  remember 
that  our  truly  great  men  and  women  have,  with  a  few 
exceptions,  learned  to  take  serious  matters  seriously 
in  childhood,  and  since  the  children  who  are  learning  to 
reason  on  serious  subjects  are  more  likely  to  have  a  far 
happier  childhood  than  their  more  thoughtless  com- 
panions, is  there  any  danger  in  a  reasonable  amount 
of  character-study?  Children  become  neither  "con- 
science-haunted"  nor  "priggish"  if  the  observations 
are  never  applied  to  themselves.  It  serves  merely  to 
turn  the  musings  of  the  busy  little  thinkers  into  no- 
bler channels  of  thought. 

An  admirable  device  for  fixing  great  literary  events 
in  chronological  order  is  suggested  by  Miss  M.  E.  Burt 
in  her  book,  "  Literary  Landmarks."  A  long  line  rep- 
resents the  centuries  divided  into  the  two  eras,  B.C. 
and  A.D.,  by  the  Cross.  Upon  this  line  the  monu- 
ments of  great  writers  fix  distinctly  in  the  child's 
mind  the  time  in  which  each  lived.  The  same  device 
may  be  used  in  teaching  the  lives  of  great  men,  —  those 
who  have  given  their  lives  for  the  advancement  of  the 
human  race,  whether  in  literary,  scientific,  artistic,  or 
philanthropic  lines. 

The  more  analytical  study  of  moral  principles  will 
go  hand  in  hand  with  character-study.  The  term 


Methods  of  Reaching  the  Child.  117 

"personal,"  "ideal,"  or  " social"  virtues  may  or  may 
not  be  used  with  the  older  children,  as  the  teacher  may 
see  fit;  but  the  principles  should  be  taught.  So  many 
emotional  persons,  enthusiastic  for  "  the  good,  the 
true,  and  the  beautiful,"  would  become  better  balanced, 
and  their  efforts  would  result  in  far  greater  good,  if 
they  had  learned  to  discern  ethical  principles.  As  it 
is,  they  are  apt  to  be  carried  away  with  each  new 
fad  in  doing  good,  and  not  see  that  the  underlying 
principles  often  will  not  bear  inspection.  Literature 
of  an  "  indefinitely  elevating  "  character  finds  appre- 
ciative readers  among  them,  yet  when  the  stress  of  a 
great  temptation  is  brought  to  bear  upon  them,  the 
emotions  may  be  led  astray  by  the  sophistries  of  the 
new  desires. 

Intellectual  moral  culture  is  invaluable;  it  leads  to 
that  rare  combination  of  experience,  kindness,  unself- 
ishness, and  keen  moral  insight  which  the  Bible  calls 
wisdom. 

The  new  duties  which  devolve  upon  the  individual 
on  reaching  adult  life  should  be  very  thoroughly  dis- 
cussed in  the  higher  grades  of  the  grammar  school.  In 
some  church  denominations,  children  between  the 
ages  of  twelve  and  sixteen  are  given  a  year's  instruc- 
tion in  these  matters  before  confirmation.  They  re- 
ceive, besides  the  religious  training,  definite  moral 
instruction,  which  is  to  prepare  them  for  the  time 
when  they  will  be  held  responsible  for  their  own  acts. 
The  result  of  this  training  often  lasts  through  life. 
Can  we  believe  that  the  influence  of  a  Dr.  Arnold,  a 
Charles  Kingsley,  or  a  Phillips  Brooks  can  ever  be  for- 
gotten? And  the  power  for  good  which  these  men 


118  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

possessed  lay,  not  in  their  scholarly  attainments,  nor 
in  mere  gifts  of  eloquence;  their  power  lay  in  their 
unquestioning  devotion  to  the  ideal,  and  their  abound- 
ing faith  in  the  innate  good  in  men.  Boldly  they 
appealed  to  this  good;  where  it  was  dormant,  they 
aroused  it.  So  must  it  be  with  us.  We  must  always 
remember  that  the  people  who  died  at  the  stake  for 
their  belief,  or  those  who  fought  for  the  rights  of  the 
weak  and  down-trodden  in  the  early  days  of  chivalry, 
were  not  made  of  finer  clay  than  are  the  boys  and 
girls  of  to-day. 

"  Earth  has  its  royal  natures  yet, 
Brave,  tender,  true,  and  sweet." 

We  must  have  faith,  unalterable  faith,  in  the  innate 
nobility  of  the  child.  It  is  faith  which  removes  moun- 
tains, —  mountains  of  suspicion  and  distrust. 

Even  now  in  our  crowded  schools,  where  teaching 
according  to  psychological  principles  is  wellnigh  im- 
possible, this  faith  in  the  child — the  desire  to  believe 
in  the  best  that  is  in  him  ( at  the  same  time  not  ignor- 
ing, but  helping  him  to  overcome,  the  worst)  —  will  be 
the  means  by  which  a  teacher  may  rise  above  all  con- 
ditions, and  make  the  spirit  of  the  school  a  benedic- 
tion to  all  those  who  come  within  its  influence. 

The  lines  of  reading  in  which  young  people  become 
interested  have  a  great  influence  upon  them.  For 
instance,  many  high-school  courses  in  English  em- 
phasize the  literary  productions  of  our  great  orators 
and  statesmen,  and  whole  classes  of  boys,  who  have 
studied  the  famous  arguments  and  orations,  merely  as 
lessons  in  style,  leave  school,  fired  with  the  ambition 
to  become  lawyers.  Through  the  law  they  hope  to 


Methods  of  Reaching  the  Child.  119 

enter  politics,  and  in  imagination  they  see  the  White 
House  as  their  home. 

The  mistake  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  boys  had 
come  to  admire  the  great  statesmen,  not  the  great  men. 
They  should  realize  from  the  first  that  our  life-work, 
in  order  to  be  most  successful,  must  be  in  line  with 
our  natural  ability;  that  in  honest  work,  truly  done, 
lies  the  greatness  of  men.  What  we  should  admire 
and  imitate  in  great  men  is,  not  the  profession,  but 
the  power  of  concentration,  the  faithfulness  to  a  trust, 
and  the  unselfishness  which  will  sacrifice  all  personal 
considerations  to  a  principle. 

As  in  a  great  building  only  a  comparatively  few 
stones  used  in  its  construction  can  be  seen  on  the  sur- 
face, so  in  life,  only  a  few  great  men  become  famous. 
Sometimes  fame  is  bought  with  the  price  of  true  great- 
ness; a  man's  ambition  may  prompt  him  to  stoop  to 
ignoble  means  in  order  to  gain  position;  his  placing 
self  above  principle  stamps  him  as  a  weak  character. 
So  the  ornamental  stones  on  the  outside  of  the  build- 
ing are  often  composed  of  weaker  stuff  than  the  gran- 
ite blocks  within. 

As  the  law  attracts  many  young  men  who  have  am- 
bitions to  become  statesmen,  so  business  attracts  others 
who  hope  to  gain  pleasure  and  power  by  amassing  a 
fortune.  This,  again,  is  imitation  of  some  great  finan- 
cier who  "  started  as  a  poor  boy." 

Very  exceptional  indeed  was  a  young  man  of 
splendid  attainments  who,  on  leaving  the  university, 
went  to  teaching  in  a  high  school.  After  several  years 
of  successful  work  he  accepted  a  position  with  a  large 
corporation,  where  his  salary  was  doubled  and  his 


120  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

chances  for  "rising"  were  good.  To  the  dismay  of 
his  friends,  however,  he  deliberately  resigned  within  a 
year,  to  again  take  up  the  profession  of  teaching. 

"  It  is  a  sordid  life,  this  scramble  after  wealth,"  he 
said.  "  To  give  one's  whole  time  and  energy  to  the  ac- 
quisition of  money,  trampling  under  foot  all  ideals,  is 
unworthy  of  any  good  mind.  I  prefer  to  do  work  that 
will  last,  that  will  live  and  grow;  to  deal  in  futures  of 
another  kind, — in  the  futures  of  young  men  and  women. 
In  this  work  I  find  my  best  efforts  necessary  to  success, 
and  promising  worthy  returns.  I  was  a  scientist  by 
nature,  and  I  have  found  no  subjects  more  interesting 
than  human  beings.  Why  force  myself  into  a  life 
which  is  alien  to  me,  —  a  life-work  which  prevents  all 
true  development?  Agassiz  was  right,  '  We  have  no 
time  to  make  money.' >: 

HABITS.  Every  act  has  its  significance  as  the  fore- 
runner of  a  habit.  If  the  act  is  such  that  a  habit 
based  upon  it  would  be  a  desirable  one,  no  more 
thought  need  be  given  it,  as  a  good  habit  is  forming. 

Most  children  intend  to  become  good  when  they 
grow  to  be  men  and  women.  They  know  that  in  the 
world  of  men  habits  of  honesty,  truthfulness,  fairness, 
are  essential  qualifications;  but  they  have  heard  so 
many  good  people  relate  with  zest  the  tricks  and  vi- 
cious pranks  of  their  childhood,  that  they  think,  "  Mr. 
J.  and  Mr.  K.  and  papa  are  good  men,  yet  they  were 
very  bad  boys.  I  '11  be  like  them;  I  '11  have  'fun' 
now,  and  behave  myself  later  on." 

In  some  cases  when  the  "bad  boy"  is  confronted 
with  the  business  of  earning  a  living  or  learning  a 
trade  or  studying  for  a  profession,  he  does  behave 


Methods  of  Reaching  the  Child.  121 

himself  remarkably  well,  and  we  say  with  surprise, 
" How  well  he  has  turned  out! "  Yet  when  conditions 
are  unfavorable,  the  lowest  possibilities  in  his  nature 
often  become  dominant.  Even  if  he  does  not  turn  out 
a  criminal  before  the  law,  he  may  be  none  the  less 
vicious. 

If  we  study  the  lives  of  men  who  have  achieved  true 
success,  which  means  a  victory  over  self  and  a  triumph 
of  all  the  better  qualities  of  their  natures,  we  invari- 
ably come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  truly  great  men 
were  those  who  began  in  youth  the  habit  of  carefully 
considering  questions  of  right  and  wrong. 

Some  very  practical  advantages  of  forming  good 
habits  and  leaving  a  clean  record  might  be  explained 
to  children  with  good  effect.  There  are  so  many 
things  that  children  "want"  which  they  know  can 
only  be  gotten  with  money,  that  they  are  inclined  to 
consider  of  great  importance  anything  which  will 
have  a  money  value.  This  utilitarian  argument  for  a 
clean  life  will  appeal  to  many  who  could  not  appreci- 
ate the  ethical  reason.  If  they  feel  that  in  the  great 
world  of  business  the  record  of  even  a  child  is  taken 
into  account,  it  will  have  a  great  weight  with  some, 
and  to  all  it  emphasizes  the  importance  of  a  good 
name. 

All  the  employees  of  the  Wells  Fargo  Express  Com- 
pany, for  instance,  are  required  to  give  bond,  so  that  the 
company  is  secured  in  case  of  loss  by  the  dishonesty 
of  any  of  the  men.  When  a  young  man  is  a  candidate 
for  a  position,  he  must  give  his  name,  place  of  birth, 
former  place  of  residence,  the  names  of  old  friends,  of 
teachers,  etc.  These  data  are  turned  over  to  another 


122  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

company,  that  makes  a  business  of  going  security  for 
any  employees  who  are  required  to  give  bond.  An 
agent  of  this  company  then  ferrets  out  every  possible 
incident  of  the  man's  former  life.  If  this  report  is  a 
favorable  one,  the  company  takes  the  risk;  if  dishonesty, 
trickery,  or  anything  of  a  doubtful  character  has  come 
to  light  by  the  investigation,  the  security  is  refused. 

The  fact  that  so  many  public  men  have  found  it  very 
embarrassing  to  face  their  early  record,  is  making  an 
impression  upon  the  ambitious  boys  of  to-day.  Al- 
though this  is  a  low  motive  for  leading  a  clean  life,  it 
is  better  than  none.  On  applying  to  a  prominent 
lawyer  for  a  position  to  study  law,  a  young  man  re- 
marked, "I  have  kept  my  record  above  reproach  so 
far,  in  school  and  out  of  it,  and  I  intend  to  do  so  al- 
ways. Whatever  I  may  do  in  the  future,  I  shall  be 
all  the  better  for  having  no  skeleton  in  my  past.  I 
want  to  be  perfectly  free  to  devote  all  my  energy  to 
my  profession." 

Ambition  prompted  this  young  man  to  keep  a  clear 
record.  Later  in  life  he  may  learn  to  appreciate  it  for 
higher  reasons. 

In  preparing  to  put  up  a  large  structure,  we  dig 
deep  down  to  the  solid  ground.  Then  begins  the  child- 
hood of  the  building,  —  that  part  which  is  unseen  by 
the  world. 

Sometimes  a  building  leans,  and  we  say  that  the 
foundation  is  at  fault.  If  a  man  is  not  upright  in  his 
life,  we  must  conclude  that  the  foundation  of  his  life 
was  badly  laid.  Seventy  per  cent  of  all  criminals  are 
said  to  be  under  thirty  years  of  age.  Had  these  young 
people  learned  to  control  their  lower  impulses  in  child- 


Methods  of  Reaching  the  Child.  123 

hood,  if  they  had  formed  the  habit  of  considering  the 
comfort  and  happiness  of  others  above  their  own,  and 
to  appreciate  the  sacredness  of  a  trust,  they  would  not 
have  yielded  in  the  time  of  temptation,  which  comes  to 
us  all. 

During  the  first  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  children 
are  laying  the  foundation  of  their  lives  in  home  and 
school.  They  work  hard,  drawing  in  materials  for 
future  use.  Happy  the  child  that  gathers  only  the 
best  materials,  and  receives  just  enough  help  in  lay- 
ing his  foundation  as  shall  make  of  him  a  good 
workman! 


CHAPTER  II. 

SCHOOL  GOVERNMENT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO 
MORAL   TRAINING. 

SCHOOL  government  and  moral  training,  though  they 
work  in  the  same  general  direction,  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  each  other.  The  former  is  directed 
towards  insuring  good  behavior  in  school.  The  latter 
has  for  its  primary  object  the  development  of  the  child 
into  a  noble  man  or  woman.  Some  of  the  strictest  and 
most  successful  school  disciplinarians  are  most  defi- 
cient in  character-building.  Though  a  conscientious 
teacher  will  always  combine  with  school  government 
as  much  of  the  moral  training  as  possible,  yet,  in  and 
of  themselves,  they  are  distinct. 

For  instance,  a  good  disciplinarian  may  keep  better 
order  in  school — i.e.,  may  better  suppress  whispering, 
outward  manifestations  of  restlessness,  etc.  —  than  the 
instructor  who  seeks  principally  to  elevate  the  moral 
standard  of  his  pupils;  while  the  latter  may  develop 
more  truth,  honor,  and  love  of  right  among  the  children. 

Certain  natural  impulses,  such  as  talking  or  whisper- 
ing, walking  about,  or  innocent  play,  harmless  in  them- 
selves, must  be  curbed  or  suppressed  in  the  school- 
room, because  they  become  disturbing  influences. 

A  strict  disciplinarian  will  be  more  annoyed  by  such 
offenses  against  school  discipline  than  by  the  artful 
cunning  of  some  hypocrite,  and  may  therefore  proceed 
more  energetically  against  this  than  against  the  more 

124 


School  Government  in  Relation  to  Moral  Training.     125 

serious  evil.  A  child  measuring  the  gravity  of  the 
cause  by  the  greater  effect  produced  may  be  thus 
taught  to  look  upon  these  misdemeanors  in  the  light 
of  heinous  offenses,  compared  to  which  lying  and  hyp- 
ocrisy are  slight.  He  thus  loses  the  sense  of  moral 
proportion,  and  having  first  learned  to  overestimate 
the  moral  importance  of  these  offenses  against  school 
discipline,  he  is  likely  to  take  the  second  step,  and  look 
upon  real  wrong  as  a  misdemeanor  only. 

Though  school  government  is  not  moral  training, 
yet  it  may  be  made  a  great  factor  in  it.  In  school, 
the  spoiled  pet  and  autocrat  of  the  home  is  placed  on 
the  same  level  with  the  other  children;  his  faults  are 
corrected,  his  pert  sayings  disregarded,  —  in  short,  he 
becomes  a  failing  mortal,  and  is  cured  of  much  of  his 
self-conceit.  Another  child,  bashful  and  timid,  feels, 
perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  that  he  is  the 
equal  of  others,  respected  for  himself  in  spite  of  his 
poor  dress  or  dull  comprehension.  There,  too,  chil- 
dren must  give  up  many  of  their  individual  peculiari- 
ties and  learn  to  conform  to  certain  inflexible  rules, 
which  tends  to  greatly  counteract  the  egotism  of  the 
home  life.  This  equalizing  process,  in  itself,  is  of  the 
greatest  moral  benefit  to  all. 

As  in  the  political  world  there  are  all  sorts  of  gov- 
ernments, from  the  arbitrary  despotism  to  the  free 
republic,  like  that  of  Switzerland,  so  the  same  is 
true  of  our  schools.  On  the  thrones  we  find  such 
characters  as  Peter  I,  Frederick  II,  Elizabeth  of  Eng- 
land, Louis  XIV  of  France,  —  rulers  who  excelled  in 
military  and  administrative  skill.  Yet  they  were 
despots,  their  will  was  law,  and  they  controlled  their 


126  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

kingdoms  by  the  force  of  their  arms  and  the  power  of 
their  will,  without  asking  either  for  the  wishes  or  the 
counsel,  though  often  considering  the  ultimate  good,  of 
their  subjects,  whose  noblest  duty  was  thought  to  be 
implicit,  unquestioning  obedience. 

Their  counterpart  is  found  at  rn^any  teachers'  desks. 
The  teacher  makes  laws  and  lays  down  rules  which 
the  pupil  must  obey  implicitly.  Their  consent  or 
counsel  is  not  asked;  they  are  simply  commanded  to 
do  this  thing  and  leave  the  other  undone,  or  bear  the 
consequences.  Every  rule  is  strictly  enforced,  and  its 
violation  punished  severely  —  when  the  culprit  is 
caught. 

In  former  times  parents  and  teachers  often  resorted 
to  this  method  of  government,  and  the  man  who  most 
skillfully  used  the  rod  was  considered  by  many  the 
best  schoolmaster.  Schools  were  places  for  impart- 
ing a  certain  amount  of  knowledge,  without  regard  to 
the  child's  inclinations  or  individuality.  To  protect 
these,  the  child  was  forced  into  a  warfare,  carried  on, 
on  his  side,  by  hatred,  cunning,  or  obstinacy;  on  that 
of  the  teacher,  by  brute  force. 

Such  school  government  does  not  produce  a  good 
moral  tone  in  the  school,  for  it  awakens  dissatisfaction, 
and  an  open  or  secret  spirit  of  rebellion  which  is 
harmful.  The  children  see  in  the  teacher  an  enemy, 
and  they  consider  it  a  glory  to  annoy  him  or  to  evade 
his  rules,  the  reason  of  which  they  will  not  try  to 
understand  and  the  necessity  of  which  they  will  not 
admit.  Untruthfulness  and  hypocrisy  are  fostered 
among  them,  and  teacher  and  pupils  alike  will  learn 
to  hate  the  school. 


School  Government  in  Relation  to  Moral  Training.     127 

The  faults  of  such  a  system  of  school  government 
do  not  end  here.  One  of  its  worst  moral  effects  is  that 
it  destroys  the  power  of  the  child's  own  will,  substi- 
tuting therefor  the  will  of  another.  Now,  nothing  is 
more  important  in  the  moral  progress  of  man  than 
that  his  will  should  be,  not  destroyed,  but  trained; 
not  broken,  but  strengthened.  Therefore  the  school 
government  which  looks  only  towards  enforcing  the 
will  of  the  teacher  is  harmful  in  its  effects,  for  it  unfits 
the  child  to  become  his  own  master.  As  soon  as  the  re- 
straints are  removed  he  abuses  his  liberty,  for  it  was 
neither  self-respect  nor  love  for  the  precepts  he 
obeyed,  but  fear  only,  which  kept  him  in  bounds.  Chil- 
dren so  trained,  enjoy,  even  in  after  life,  the  recollection 
of  the  tricks  they  played,  and  the  cunning  they  dis- 
played in  evading  laws  and  escaping  punishment. 

In  the  third  place,  the  rules  and  their  reason  are 
not  explained,  and  often  the  child  cannot  conceive  at 
all  why  certain  rules  have  been  made. 

Again,  the  punishment  is  arbitrary;  there  is  no  ap- 
parent relation  between  the  rule  that  is  broken  and 
the  consequences  which  follow  its  infringement. 

The  enforcement  of  obedience  to  fixed  rules,  even 
though  they  are  not  always  understood,  has,  however, 
its  right  place  in  the  governing  and  training  of  chil- 
dren. A  certain  amount  of  unquestioning  obedience 
is  very  beneficial  to  the  youthful  character,  for  unless 
the  child  has  learned  to  obey,  the  man  will  rarely  be 
able  to  command,  either  himself  or  others.  The  no- 
table absence  of  this  trait  of  character  in  "  Young 
America  "  is  to  be  regretted. 

Thus  in  some  instances  of  entire  absence  of  home 


128  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

training,  the  teacher  may  find  it  expedient  at  first  to 
employ  this  arbitrary  method  of  government,  until 
the  child  is  far  enough  advanced  to  obey  from  higher 
motives. 

While,  therefore,  the  arbitrary  method  of  govern- 
ment just  described  is  unconditionally  to  be  con- 
demned as  a  general  guide  to  the  teacher's  actions, 
yet  under  certain  circumstances  it  may  be  useful  and 
even  necessary. 

The  method  of  nature  in  the  training  of  children, 
advocated  by  Herbert  Spencer  and  various  Ger- 
man writers  before  him,  consists  in  adhering  as  far  as 
possible  to  the  general  principles  which  nature  follows 
in  enforcing  her  laws,  and  in  punishing  any  infraction 
thereof. 

When  one  of  nature's  laws  is  broken,  the  consequence 
is  generally  pain.  If  a  child  eats  too  much,  it  becomes 
ill;  if  it  plays  with  fire,  it  is  very  apt  to  burn  its  fin- 
gers; if  it  climbs  into  insecure  places,  it  is  likely  to 
fall  and  hurt  itself.  The  punishment  is  such  that  the 
child  readily  sees  the  relation  between  cause  and  ef- 
fect. 

This  the  teacher  can  imitate  to  a  certain  extent  in 
governing  his  school.  The  punishment  is  made  to 
have  a  direct  and  apparent  relation  to  the  offense,  and 
to  follow  as  its  natural  and  inevitable  consequence. 

If,  for  example,  a  child  uses  unclean  words,  his 
mouth  may  be  washed.  The  necessity,  or  at  least  the 
justice,  of  washing  out  a  mouth  through  which  unclean, 
"  dirty"  words  have  passed  will  be  felt  if  not  admitted. 

Some  of  the  objections  against  the  arbitrary  method 
are  removed  in  this;  the  rules  are  not  so  arbitrary; 


School  Government  in  Relation  to  Moral  Training.     129 

the  result  of  their  infraction  is  a  natural  and  conse- 
quential one  which  the  child  feels  is  just. 

It  does  not  produce  that  spirit  of  antagonism  against 
law  and  law-makers  which  is  sure  to  follow,  in  spir- 
ited children,  the  employment  of  the  more  tyrannical 
method.  The  child  here  is  not  forced  to  obey  at  the 
point  of  a  stick,  but  his  judgment  is  called  into  action, 
the  necessity  of  the  law  and  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  breaking  it  are  impressed  upon  him,  and  he 
modifies  his  conduct  accordingly. 

This  method,  however,  will  be  found  useful  in  the 
schoolroom  only  when  the  teacher  carries  it  out  much 
more  faithfully  than  nature  does.  In  the  school, 
where  minutes  are  precious,  and  many  children  are 
gathered  together,  who  differ  greatly  in  character  and 
"  trainability,"  none  must  take  an  undue  proportion 
of  time  out  of  school  hours,  absolute  obedience  to  cer- 
tain fundamental  laws  must  be  required,  and  this  can- 
not always  be  attained  by  a  strict  adherence  to  nature's 
sometimes  dilatory  methods. 

Again,  nature's  laws  differ  from  those  necessary  in 
the  government  of  all  human  affairs  by  human  agen- 
cies, and  especially  those  necessary  in  moral  train- 
ing, in  this  respect:  — 

Nature  allows  an  individual  to  go  any  distance  on 
the  road  toward  an  infringement  of  her  laws  without 
punishment,  so  long  as  he  stops  short  of  the  actual 
offense;  or  if  punishment  follows,  it  may  be  so  distant 
and  indirect  that  it  is  often  not  recognized  as  the  re- 
sult of  the  partial  infringement  of  the  law. 

Thus  a  child  may  play  with  fire  as  much  as  he 
likes.  Nature  permits  that,  in  and  of  itself.  It  is  only 


130  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

when  the  fire  is  brought  in  contact  with  the  skin 
that  she  sends  a  swift  and  sure  retribution;  or,  indi- 
rectly, when  it  is  brought  into  contact  with  inflamma- 
ble substances, — for  instance,  little  sister's  dress. 

The  child  does  not  know,  at  first,  that  nature  is 
more  kindly  disposed,  in  this  respect,  towards  iron  than 
towards  linen  or  human  flesh,  allowing  the  fire  to  be 
not  only  harmless,  but  beneficial  and  beautiful  in  the 
grate  or  stove,  while  it  does  mischief  elsewhere. 

So  when  a  child  moderately  overeats  habitually,  it 
may  suffer  but  little  discomfort  from  the  indulgence. 
Nature  accommodates  herself  to  many  of  the  wishes 
and  imprudences  of  her  children;  and  though  she 
demands  payment  of  her  bill  in  the  shape  of  an  un- 
wieldy body,  yet  the  relation  between  cause  and  effect 
is  not  always  apparent  to  the  unobservant  eye.  Again, 
a  child  may  climb  anywhere  for  a  long  time  without 
evil  results,  until  some  day,  trusting  his  weight  to  too 
weak  a  limb,  he  falls,  and  perhaps  loses  his  life  or 
becomes  permanently  crippled.  Or  he  may  remain 
comparatively  uninjured  from  a  fall  from  a  tree,  and 
rolling  off  a  sofa,  may  break  a  limb. 

Nothing  could  be  more  opposed  to  what  we  consider 
the  laws  of  nature  than  the  free  and  habitual  use  of  a 
violent,  irritant  poison  like  arsenic,  yet  the  peasants 
of  Styria  eat  it  almost  as  freely  as  we  do  sugar,  and 
thrive  and  grow  to  old  age  in  apparently  good  health. 

In  the  government  by  merely  human  agencies,  it  is 
not  possible  to  draw  the  line  so  closely  between  that 
which  is  harmful  and  that  which  merely  approaches 
it.  Especially  is  this  true  in  regard  to  moral  matters. 
The  little  involuntary,  and  almost  unconscious,  de- 


School  Government  in  Relation  to  Moral  Training.    131 

ceptions  practiced  by  the  young  child  in  word  and 
look  and  deed  may  by  gradual,  imperceptible  degrees 
lead  him  to  the  felon's  cell.  The  passionate  outbursts 
of  the  boy  or  girl,  uncontrolled,  may  later  be  the 
cause  of  a  crime  which  the  man  or  woman  would 
gladly  give  life  itself  to  undo.  Weak  yielding  to  the 
taste  for  sweetmeats  in  childhood  may  give  the  taste 
for  strong  drink  a  fatal  power. 

We  find  that  some  of  the  objections  against  the  arbi- 
trary method  of  child-government  which  was  formerly 
in  vogue,  and  which  is  by  no  means  yet  extinct,  are 
corrected  in  this  method  of  nature.  But  one  remains. 
It  is,  again,  fear,  and  fear  only,  which  is  relied  upon  to 
prevent  the  child  from  doing  wrong.  True,  it  is  not 
such  a  blind,  unreasoning  fear,  —  not  a  fear  which  de- 
stroys the  will-power,  as  the  former  does.  Yet  it  is 
only  through  fear  of  the  consequences  that  the  child  is 
restrained,  and  he  may  learn  to  think  that  he  has  a 
right  to  do  that  which  is  not  followed  by  evil  conse- 
quences to  himself,  or  he  may  learn  to  disregard  or 
evade  these  consequences. 

Again,  he  finds  very  quickly  that,  though  nature 
may  always  find  the  offender,  parents  and  teachers  do 
not.  The  real  instigators  of  mischief  may  often  escape, 
while  one  who  is  comparatively  innocent  is  punished. 
Then  the  greater  offender  may  boast  of  his  knavery 
and  crafty  cunning  by  which  he  avoided  detection  and 
escaped  punishment. 

"  I  was  too  smart  for  the  teacher,"  is  his  boastful 
remark  to  admiring  companions. 

This  glorying  in  the  little  wrongs  which  children 
commit  is  a  great  and  mischievous  wrong  which 
should  be  prevented. 


132  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

Another  mode  of  controlling  children  is  not  uncom- 
mon. Some  teachers  have  a  startling  faculty  of  "  get- 
ting children  under  control."  From  being  unruly  in 
the  extreme,  a  great  roomful  of  them  will  yield  like 
magic  to  the  spell  of  a  little  woman  with  a  pale  face 
and  peculiarly  firm  eyes. 

She  has  not  the  power  to  whip  the  smallest  one  of 
them,  perhaps,  and  she  does  not  need  to  resort  to 
physical  force;  she  is  armed  with  a  power  more  potent 
than  the  rod.  Years  ago,  perhaps,  she  suffered  intol- 
erably from  criticisms  made  against  her  work  because 
of  "  lack  of  control."  During  some  sleepless  night  she 
made  up  her  mind  to  "  control  these  children  at  all 
hazards."  She  could  not  whip  them;  scolding  did  no 
good;  so  she  resorted  to  force  of  will.  She  experi- 
mented systematically.  Every  morning  she  used  her 
great  force  of  will,  and  by  practice  became  an  expert 
in  " switching  off"  each  little  individuality  and  en- 
throning her  own  will  in  place  of  that  of  each  child. 

The  next  report  of  her  work  by  the  supervisor  was, 
" Progressing  finely,"  "Great  improvement."  Elated 
at  her  success,  she  went  on  strengthening  her  powers. 
Teachers  were  sent  to  her  by  the  score  to  learn  from 
her  the  secret  of  success. 

"  I  became  doubtful  of  my  method,"  remarked  such 
a  teacher,  "when  I  noticed  that  many  of  the  children, 
who  had  been  perfect  in  their  behavior  under  my  in- 
fluence, became  absolutely  unmanageable  under  that 
of  another  teacher,  who  did  not  have  my  peculiar 
power,  but  was,  in  all  other  respects,  a  better  teacher. 
After  reading  a  book  on  hypnotism,  I  was  forced  to 
confess  to  myself  that  I  had  been,  all  unconsciously, 


School  Government  in  Relation  to  Moral  Training.     133 

using  that  power.  Sometimes  I  had  been  almost 
startled  at  my  success.  But  what  should  I  have  done 
these  ten  years  without  it,  in  the  great,  crowded,  un- 
ruly schools,  in  the  worst  quarter  of  the  city,  which  I 
have  taught?  I  do  not  dare  to  think.  I  was  forced 
to  it  by  circumstances,  and  as  long  as  conditions  in 
our  schools  remain  as  they  are,  there  will  always  be 
more  or  less  of  this  force  practiced  upon  the  children. 
Our  principal  teacher  at  the  model  school  was  an  ex- 
pert hypnotist.  I  see  it  now.  She  was  not  at  all  pop- 
ular, but  she  controlled  every  one  who  came  within 
radius  of  her  influence,  exactly  as  I  control  these 
children." 

The  question,  then,  is,  "  Has  the  teacher  not  the 
right  to  use  her  personal  influence  for  good  with  the 
children?"  In  answer,  we  suggest  that  there  are  two 
kinds  of  personal  influence.  The  one  is  the  hypnotic 
power  described  above,  which  can  only  be  harmful  in 
its  effect.  The  other  is  that  peculiar  wide-awake  sym- 
pathy with  child-life  which  keeps  in  mind  always, 
even  under  the  most  trying  circumstances,  the  child's 
right  to  his  own  individuality,  and  is  determined  not 
to  rob  him  of  it,  but  to  arouse  him  to  an  appreciation 
of  right.  This  will  strengthen,  not  dethrone,  his  will; 
it  convinces  the  child  of  the  folly  of  wrong-doing,  and 
teaches  him  how  to  dethrone  within  himself  his  inner 
enemies,  —  vice,  untruthfulness,  blind  impulse,  —  and 
to  cling  with  tenacity  to  his  higher  self  only.  This  legiti- 
mate personal  influence  always  appeals  to  the  child's 
highest  motive.  If  this  happens  to  be  bodily  pain,  then 
the  teacher  should  not  shrink  from  inflicting  corporal 
punishment.  Many  teachers,  who  have  a  high  ideal 


134  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

in  education,  make  the  mistake  of  trying  to  appeal  to 
children  from  their  own  highest  motive,  and  feel  con- 
science-smitten if  forced  to  resort  to  a  lower.  They 
forget  how  limited  the  child's  experience  is.  The  ef- 
fect of  a  sound  whipping  inflicted  just  at  the  right 
time  and  in  just  the  right  way  sometimes  saves  the 
child  from  its  lowest  possibilities  and  becomes  the 
turning-point  in  its  life. 

This  question  of  school-government  has  been  a  per- 
plexing one  to  all  educators.  We  have  heard  from 
the  military  disciplinarian,  who  would  curb  all  sponta- 
neity with  an  iron  hand,  and  also  from  extremists  like 
Tolstoi,  who  denies  to  any  one  the  right  of  resisting 
wrong. 

In  some  cities  the  experiment  of  separating  the  vi- 
cious children  from  the  grades,  and  placing  them  in  a 
room  apart,  under  especially  strong  diciplinarians, 
was  tried.  This  was  effective  in  relieving  the  class 
teacher  and  making  wrong-doing  unpopular. 

The  most  hopeful  movement,  however,  is  that  by 
which  child-communities  are  made  self-governing. 

About  five  years  ago,  William  R.  George  founded  his 
Junior  Republic  on  a  farm  near  New  York  City.  The 
little  citizens  of  this  children's  city  were  children  from 
the  New  York  slums.  They  organized  as  a  city  gov- 
ernment, and  the  result  was  like  the  discovery  of  a  new 
force  in  physics,  for  it  was  found  that  within  the  chil- 
dren lies  the  power  of  self-government. 

The  experiment  is  now  being  tried  in  some  cities 
with  marked  success. 

In  the  average  country  school,  where  the  community 
is  not  yet  ready  for  anything  so  advanced,  it  will  take 


School  Government  in  Relation  to  Moral  Training.     135 

some  time  before  self-government  can  be  introduced; 
but  in  the  large  child-communities  of  cities  and  towns3 
dignified  by  the  sanction  of  the  school  authorities,  self- 
government  promises  to  become  an  established  institu- 
tion. 

It  stands  to  reason  that  the  young  man  and  woman 
on  entering  life  will  remember  the  valuable  training 
in  the  science  of  government  which  they  may  have  re- 
ceived in  such  schools,  and  each  will  be  a  more  law- 
abiding  and  law-enforcing  citizen. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    ETHICAL    IN     OUR     COMMON    SCHOOL 
STUDIES. 

THE  work  of  the  teacher  in  ethical  training  is  usu- 
ally that  of  the  sower;  the  harvest  ripens  in  future 
years.  Many  times  he  may  be  discouraged,  yet  if  he 
has  done  his  part  faithfully,  he  need  not  fear  for  re- 
sults. Thistles  do  not  grow  upon  fig  trees. 

The  teacher  must  first  of  all  try  in  every  way  to  live 
true  to  his  own  best  self,  and  remember  to  be  ever  con- 
sistent in  his  demands  upon  the  children,  trying  al- 
ways to  appeal  to  the  child's  best  self. 

As  Dr.  Arnold  worked  without  ceasing,  that  his  pu- 
pils might  "drink  from  a  running  brook,  rather  than 
from  a  stagnant  pool,"  so  must  all  teachers  give 
themselves  up  to  their  work.  This  does  not  mean  that 
they  must  overwork;  on  the  contrary,  they  can  only 
see  the  true  significance  of  the  many  trifles  which 
make  up  success  in  teaching,  if  they  are  rested  and 
physically  in  good  condition;  but  they  must  subordi- 
date  their  own  interests  for  the  time  being,  and  concen- 
trate all  their  faculties  upon  the  interests  of  the  chil- 
dren, not  of  the  "school"  taken  collectively,  but  of 
each  child  taken  individually. 

Ethical  training  is  a  help  to  the  teacher,  not  an 
added  burden.  As  the  moral  insight  of  the  children 
increases,  it  will  give  the  teacher  something  to  appeal 
to  in  them,  and  good  order  will  be  much  more  easily 

136 


The  Ethical  in  our  Common  School  Studies.      137 

maintained,  as  the  good  will  of  the  children  will  be 
enlisted  in  its  favor. 

If  the  teacher  has  aroused  the  latent  scientist  in 
every  child,  —  the  little  truth-seeker  who  asks  so  eagerly 
for  the  "why"  and  the  "wherefore," — they  will  delight 
in  telling  stories  of  observation,  which  they  may  have 
made.  A  little  time  spent  each  morning  in  telling 
observations  made  of  the  stars,  a  flower,  what  the  dog 
did,  the  colors  in  the  clouds  reproduced  in  dashes  of 
colored  crayon,  a  noble  deed,  anything  which  they 
may  have  noticed  as  beautiful  or  helpful,  will  lead  the 
children  to  observe  and  appreciate  the  beautiful  and 
the  good  in  common  life.  In  this  way  language  les- 
sons, both  oral  and  written,  will  become  much  more 
interesting  and  spontaneous.  If  children  have  learned 
to  think  of  arithmetic  as  the  truthful  study;  that  it 
never  tells  a  falsehood,  and  can  always  be  depended 
upon;  if  geography  is  to  them  the  study  of  men,  with 
the  surroundings  in  which  they  live;  if  the  human  or 
vital  interest  in  all  lines  of  work  has  been  emphasized, 
— it  will  have  a  distinctly  ethical  value.  For  instance, 
a  class  of  children,  after  a  preparatory  lesson  on  draw- 
ing a  spray  of  leaves,  were  urged  to  "tell  the  truth"  in 
their  work.  Added  to  their  knowledge  of  how  to  draw 
it  was  the  desire  to  be  truthful,  and  the  result  was 
charming.  The  lessons,  moreover,  went  far  beyond  the 
physical  and  mental,  into  the  region  of  the  moral — the 
children  were  doing  their  best  to  be  truthful. 

In  our  courses  of  study  we  usually  overrate  the  chil- 
dren's power  of  application.  They  should  be  trained 
to  concentrate  upon  the  subjects  in  hand,  but  three 
hours  a  day  of  close  application  is  all  that  an  average 


138  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

child  can  endure  without  sooner  or  later  giving  way 
under  the  strain. 

Industry  is  habitual  application,  and  children 
should  form  the  habit  of  concentration;  but  we  do  not 
yet  realize  the  limits  of  a  child's  endurance  in  this  re- 
gard, and  by  our  unreasonable  demands  upon  them 
we  overtax  their  strength,  and  nature  urges  them  to 
rest;  this  we  call  idleness. 

All  experienced  teachers  know  how  eagerly  the 
children  work  during  the  morning  hours;  how  easy  it 
is  to  hold  their  attention.  The  struggle  begins  in  the 
afternoon,  when  they  are  tired.  It  will  be  a  happy 
day  for  childhood  when  schools  are  arranged  with 
reference  to  nature's  demands;  when  the  legitimate 
desire  for  activity,  which  always  follows  a  mental 
strain,  will  no  longer  be  suppressed,  as  it  is  now;  when, 
through  the  whole  school  life,  the  muscles  of  the  body 
will  be  considered  as  worthy  of  development  as  the 
nerve-cells  of  the  body;  the  muscle  centers  of  the 
brain  as  worthy  of  attention  as  the  thought  centers. 

Useful  employment  has  a  most  wholesome  influence, 
mentally  and  morally,  as  well  as  physically.  It  gives 
them  a  happy  sense  of  ownership  in  the  skill  of  their 
hands  and  a  desire  to  exercise  this  skill  in  their 
leisure  hours. 

W.  N.  Hailmann,  in  his  work  on  "  Primary  Methods," 
happily  expresses  the  result  of  hand-training.  He 
says,  "It  enables  the  child  to  gain  a  knowledge  which 
the  current  subjects  of  school  instruction  represent,  in 
a  manner  more  suited  to  his  tastes  and  powers;  in  a 
complete,  all-sided,  active,  ideal,  child-life,  in  which 
he  is  upheld  and  strengthened  by  the  constant  joy  of 
success,  the  steady  glow  of  growing  power." 

I 


CHAPTER  IV. 
REFLECTIONS. 

THE  VALUE  OF  TIME.  The  most  precious  thing  in 
the  world  is  a  human  life;  its  influence  remains  for- 
ever, either  for  good  or  evil. 

Since  all  progress  has  been  made  by  means  of  the 
application  of  human  time  or  thought  to  the  powers  of 
nature,  we  conclude  that  there  must  have  been  many 
more  well-spent  lives  than  lives  badly  spent.  Some 
pessimists  declare  that  there  has  been  no  progress; 
that  the  world  was  never  yet  as  helpless  against  wrong, 
and  that  the  majority  of  mankind  were  never  yet  so 
deplorably  unhappy  as  now.  But  only  a  superficial 
student  of  history  could  hold  this  belief.  Slowly,  but 
surely,  we  are  nearing  the  better  time  which  is  coming, 
when  oppression  and  tyranny  will  be  no  more.  Never 
before  has  religious  fanaticism,  for  instance,  been  as 
little  in  evidence  as  now,  and  a  human  life  has  never 
been  valued  as  highly  as  it  is  to-day. 

Much  has  been  done,  but  there  yet  remains  much  to 
be  accomplished.  Society  at  large  does  not  yet  realize 
the  wisdom  of  saving  even  human  time — of  making 
the  most  of  every  human  life  intrusted  to  it.  Hence 
there  is  a  deplorable  waste  of  time.  As  a  matter  of 
economy,  for  instance,  we  give  from  forty  to  sixty 
children  to  be  trained  by  one  teacher,  regardless  of  the 
fact  that  it  is  an  absolute  impossibility  for  one  teacher 
to  make  the  most  of  the  time  to  sixty,  or  yet  to  thirty, 

139 


140  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

children;  twenty  should  be  the  largest  number  ever 
assigned  to  one  teacher.  If  the  value  of  a  human  life 
were  appreciated,  we  should  have  no  slums  in  our 
cities, — in  fact,  we  should  probably  not  have  cities  as 
we  have  them  now,  swarming  with  men  and  women 
whose  lives  seem  worse  than  wasted.  Yet  all  these 
depraved  human  beings  were  once  innocent  children, 
with  an  innate  love  for  the  good,  as  well  as  a  strong  in- 
clination toward  evil.  They  were  bountifully  endowed 
by  nature  for  usefulness  and  the  happiness  that  a  noble 
life-work  brings  to  all.  Neither  they  themselves,  nor 
society  at  large,  realized  that  they  were  the  possessors 
of  a  priceless  thing:  a  human  lifetime,  with  all  its 
marvelous  possibilities. 

"O,  for  another  lifetime!"  cried  the  aged  scientist. 
This  man  had  learned  to  value  the  possibilities  of 
time.  But  it  is  not  often  that  we  find  one  who  does. 
Many  men  and  women  are  engaged  in  "killing  time." 
They  are  "day- thieves," — tage-diebe,  as  the  Germans 
express  it.  Even  in  this  scientific  nineteenth  century, 
lives  are  thrown  away  as  one  tosses  a  pebble  into  the 
water;  in  this  case  each  pebble  is  an  uncut  diamond  of 
priceless  worth.  With  this  keen  appreciation  of  the 
possibilities  of  each  life  at  heart,  the  teacher's  own  at- 
titude toward  his  work  and  toward  each  child  will 
change.  He  will  see  to  it,  if  it  be  possible,  that  the 
children's  work  shall  be  such  as  shall  prepare  them  for 
life,  physically,  mentally,  and  morally. 

The  kindergarten  is  designed  to  employ  the  irre- 
pressible play-spirit  of  the  young  child,  and  lead  it  so 
that  it  may  be  the  means  of  a  beautiful  development. 
The  true  kindergarten  trains  the  powers  of  observa- 


Reflections.  141 

tion,  concentration,  and,  above  all,  the  imagination. 
When  kindergarten  conditions  prevail  in  all  our  schools, 
as  regards  time  of  study,  number  of  children  assigned 
to  each  teacher,  and  materials  furnished  for  work,  the 
children  will  astonish  this  dull  old  world  by  their 
" marvelous"  progress. 

The  modern  spirit  of  research  in  all  departments  of 
science  is  of  comparatively  recent  date.  We  no  longer 
try  to  fit  our  observations  into  preconceived  ideas  of 
truth,  but  we  let  nature  speak  for  herself. 

"An  experiment  is  a  question  put  to  nature,"  says 
an  eminent  physicist.  "We  call  her  answer  a  phe- 
nomenon." Students  are  every  day  putting  their 
questions  more  intelligently  to  nature,  and  are  receiv- 
ing answers  ever  more  wonderful. 

Child-study  is  that  department  of  science  which 
gives  human  nature  a  chance  to  speak  for  itself.  In 
many  universities  we  find  leaders  in  this  new  depart- 
ment of  science.  Thousands  of  teachers  in  active  ser- 
vice in  our  schools  are  being  helped  by  university  ex- 
tension lectures  and  courses  in  educational  reading  to 
understand  the  children  under  their  care. 

The  teacher  who  is  willing  to  study  each  child  in  a 
spirit  of  scientific  humility,  who  realizes  that  the  no- 
blest study  of  man  is  man,  will  come  to  know  the 
wondrous  possibilities,  yet,  at  the  same  time,  the  great 
limitations,  of  childhood.  Children  do  not  know;  they 
must  be  taught.  Therefore,  impatience  toward  them  for 
not  knowing  more,  or  anger  at  their  learning  so  slowly, 
is  cruelty.  The  finest  minds  often  comprehend  with 
difficulty,  and  the  most  promising  children  are  some- 
times awkward  in  attempting  to  apply  the  newly  ac- 
quired knowledge. 


142  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

In  our  work  with  children,  patience  never  ceases  to 
be  a  virtue.  "  When  your  patience  is  worn  threadbare, 
darn  it,"  is  the  good  advice  of  one  who  knew.  Patience 
must,  however,  never  be  confounded  with  weakness. 
Firm  demands  upon  the  child's  best  efforts  should  al- 
ways be  made,  and  they  will  be  all  the  more  cheerfully 
fulfilled  if  they  are  made  in  the  spirit  of  kindness. 

When  the  teacher  has  learned  to  assume  the  student 
attitude  toward  all  children,  he  will  find  it  much  less 
difficult  to  control  the  impatient  gesture  or  facial  ex- 
pression, the  high-pitched  voice  or  angry  tone.  We 
teach  as  much  by  what  we  are  as  by  what  we  do. 

Even  if  teaching  may  not  be  the  ideal  life-work  of 
which  we  have  dreamed,  if  the  machinery  of  systems 
and  the  sordid  question  of  position  and  remuneration 
have  somewhat  dampened  our  enthusiasm,  we  can  yet, 
if  we  will,  make  it  the  means  of  the  noblest  inner 
growth  to  ourselves,  and  a  life-work  which  will  not  die 
with  us. 

Patience,  perseverance,  consistency  in  our  demands 
from  day  to  day,  sympathy,  consideration,  cheerful- 
ness, industry,  and  a  constant  effort  to  see  the  motives 
of  others,  to  see  ourselves  and  all  things  as  others  see 
them, — these  are  some  of  the  qualities  developed  in  a 
good  teacher. 

By  studying  others  we  can  know  ourselves.  By 
studying  ourselves  we  know  others.  Even  the  teacher 
in  the  humblest  country  school  may,  if  he  will,  be  a 
scientist  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word, — a  student  of 
men  and  a  builder  of  character. 

We  have  often  heard  that  the  teacher  makes  the 
school.  This  is  true  in  a  great  measure,  but  a  few 


Reflections.  143 

words  on  the  other  side  of  the  question  are  pertinent 
in  this  connection. 

On  the  all-important  first  day,  for  instance,  the 
teacher  is  confronted  by  a  wriggling  mass  of  American 
juvenility,  ranging  in  number  from  thirty  to  sixty.  It 
has  been  said  that  there  is  "enthusiasm  in  numbers  "; 
that  good  work  can  be  done  under  any  and  all  condi- 
tions, etc. 

"  Good  work"  is  a  relative  term;  and  judging  from  the 
scathing  criticisms  which  Dr.  J.  M.  Rice  and  President 
Eliot  of  Harvard  have  made  upon  the  schools  of  the 
United  States,  the  work  with  large  numbers  has  been 
anything  but  satisfactory. 

Class-work  can  never  be  ideal  work;  a  "  study  group" 
should  be  the  nearest  approach  to  it;  with  large  num- 
bers, only  class- work  can  be  done;  the  demands  of  the 
individual  must  be  subordinated  to  the  general  needs 
of  the  many. 

All  this  cannot  be  helped,  we  are  told;  there  is  no 
country  in  which  the  masses  are  as  well  educated  as  in 
ours;  that  it  is  unjust  to  our  taxpayers  to  spend  more 
money  on  our  schools,  etc.  A  prominent  authority 
says  that  the  average  city  spends  about  as  much  for 
the  education  of  her  children  as  she  does  for  soda-water 
and  ice-cream!  And  this  is  spent  by  men  who  do  not 
always  apply  rational  business  methods  to  school 
affairs.  The  waste  of  funds  in  many  cases  would  not 
be  tolerated  an  instant  by  a  business  man  in  a  private 
enterprise. 

However  discouraging  educational  conditions  may 
be,  we  should  remember  that  we  are  living  in  a  time 
of  change,  and  with  the  adjustment  of  economic  con- 


144  Moral  Culture  as  a  Science. 

ditions,  educational  matters  will  improve.  The  anx- 
ious question  will  not  much  longer  be,  "  What  will  it 
cost?  "  but  "  What  do  we  want?  "  Americans,  as  a 
sovereign  people,  do  not  have  to  wait  long,  when  once 
they  know  what  they  want. 

An  educational  "  castle  in  Spain "  as  an  approxi- 
mation of  what  we  want  might  be  of  interest  in  this 
connection.  Prom  without  our  castle  is  a  pleasant, 
unostentatious  building,  surrounded  by  large  grounds. 
Within,  we  find  the  rooms  light,  airy,  and  homelike, 
with  comfortable  seats  for  perhaps  twenty  children. 

Out  on  the  spacious  grounds  are  the  workshops, 
laboratories,  gymnasium,  and  game-grounds,  of  various 
kinds. 

The  children  spend  the  vigorous  morning  hours  in 
concentrated  mental  work.  After  the  lunch,  which  is 
served  hot  in  the  school  dining-room,  where  children 
learn  the  simple  amenities  of  the  table  and  the  homely 
arts  of  cooking  and  serving,  the  siesta  or  playtime 
follows.  Then  the  manual  work  begins;  all  children 
go  to  their  respective  places  in  workshop,  laboratory, 
sewing-room,  or  gymnasium.  Boys  and  girls  receive 
the  same  instruction,  and  the  desire  of  all  instructors 
is  to  give  each  individual  the  best  possible  chance  for 
development. 

However  far  from  realization  our  estimate  may  be, 
we  are  as  yet  in  the  old  conditions.  A  teacher  may  be 
ever  so  earnest  and  take  the  deepest  interest  in  the 
children,  yet  the  educational  problems  before  him  are 
discouraging. 

There  is  a  churlish  boy  who  is  half  asleep  because 
he  has  been  carrying  papers  since  three  o'clock  in  the 


Reflections.  145 

morning;  the  pale  little  girl,  who  is  learning  to  raise 
her  eyebrows  in  premature  anxiety,  is  preoccupied  be- 
cause she  is  thinking  of  her  mother  away  trying  to  get 
work,  as  her  father  has  been  "  laid  off ";  the  boy  with 
his  head  tied  up  is  suffering  with  an  ulcerated  tooth 
because  there  is  no  money  to  pay  the  dentist;  here  is 
a  child  habitually  overfed  and  spoiled  until  it  has  be- 
come inordinately  selfish  and  sluggish,  —  these  every- 
day problems  of  individual  cases  are  constantly  pre- 
senting themselves  to  the  teacher. 

Yet  as  he  looks  into  the  many  faces  turned  toward 
him,  he  feels  inspired  to  do  his  best,  whatever  the 
conditions  may  be.  If  he  can  make  the  children  feel 
that  "  our  difficulties  are  our  opportunities,"  he  has 
done  much.  He  knows  that  the  little  hearts  love 
right-doing,  or  righteousness;  that  they  turn  to  the 
good  as  the  daisy  turns  to  the  sun;  that  the  most 
gratefully  remembered  work  will  be  that  which  he  may 
do  for  them  in  helping  them  to  live  a  true  life.  Long 
after  the  good  cook  of  their  childhood,  the  patient 
slave  of  the  needle,  or  the  best  teacher  of  arithmetic 
and  grammar,  are  forgotten,  they  will  think  of  that 
man  or  woman  who  directed  them  to  the  unchanging 
moral  and  ethical  truths  of  life.  Food  and  clothing, 
arithmetic  and  grammar,  then  become  merely  the 
means  to  the  end  of  noble  living. 


APPENDIX. 

A  FEW  stories  for  children  are  added  to  further  illus- 
trate a  method  of  presenting  moral  truths.  It  will  be 
noted  that  the  moral  is  not  a  thing  apart  from  the 
story.  As  in  the  "  novel  with  a  purpose,"  taken  from 
life  to  illustrate  moral  truths  for  children  of  a  larger 
growth,  these  simple  illustrations  from  child-life  are 
planned  to  serve  the  same  purpose,  in  their  way. 

Inspiring  thoughts  of  great  men  may  be  used  as 
themes  for  ethical  lessons  with  older  children.  A  few 
of  these  are  presented  for  that  purpose. 

147 


MARTIN'S   THINKING. 

"  MARTIN,  will  you  remember  to  bring  some  straw- 
berries from  Mr.  Hall's,  on  your  way  home  from  school  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Bell,  one  day,  when  her  son  was  leaving  for 
school.  "  Remember,  now,  I  shall  need  them  for 
shortcake.  Aunt  Anna  is  coming  for  dinner  this  even- 
ing, and  she  is  so  fond  of  shortcake,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  '11  remember.  I  'm  fond  of  shortcake  too," 
Martin  said,  laughing,  as  he  started  for  school. 

But  he  played  ball  as  he  went  along  the  street  on 
his  way  home,  and  he  did  not  think  of  the  berries  until 
his  mother  said,  "  Well,  where  are  the  berries?  " 

"  O,  I  forgot  them!  I'll  go  back  and  get  them  as 
quickly  as  I  can! "  and  Martin  was  off  again. 

"  Mamma,  I  had  to  have  my  brains  in  my  feet, 
again,  that  time,"  said  Martin,  running  up  with  the 
berries.  "I  ran  all  the  way!  Is  it  too  late  for  the 
shortcake?  " 

"  I  think  not,  if  you  will  help  me  pick  them  over, " 
said  his  mother. 

Martin  put  his  mother's  kitchen  apron  around  his 
neck,  rolled  up  his  sleeves,  and  after  washing  his 
hands,  he  went  to  work  picking  over  the  berries. 

His  mother  took  a  handful  of  berries  from  the  dish. 
"  We  will  lay  these  aside  to  eat  when  we  are  through," 
she  said;  "  but  we  must  not  touch  a  single  one  now." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  that  your  mind  can  do  different 
kinds  of  thinking?  "  asked  Mrs.  Bell  presently.  "  You 

149 


150  Appendix. 

can  do  two  kinds  of  thinking  very  well,  but  there  is 
one  kind  of  thinking  which  you  do  not  do  well  at  all." 

"What  kind  is  that?"  asked  Martin.  "  It's  the 
kind  of  thinking  which  you  did  not  do  on  your  way 
home  from  school,"  said  she. 

"  O,  remembering!  "  said  Martin. 

"Yes,  we  might  call  it  remember-thinking.  You 
have  a  very  poor  memory.  I  want  you  to  do  your 
best,  Martin,  to  train  yourself  in  this  kind  of  thinking, 
because  terrible  things  may  happen  when  people 
forget. 

"  When  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  knew  a  big  boy,  George 
Warner,  who  worked  in  the  roundhouse  where  the 
engines  were  kept.  When  an  engine  went  in  to  be 
cleaned,  all  the  water  which  was  left  in  the  boiler 
was  emptied  into  a  pit. 

"  It  was  George's  work  to  open  and  close  these  pits. 
One  day  a  boiler  full  of  hot  water  had  been  emptied 
and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  steam.  George  was 
speaking  with  another  boy,  and  forgot  to  close  the  pit. 

"  The  foreman,  in  making  his  rounds,  went  through 
the  steam,  and  fell  into  the  pit  of  boiling  water.  You 
know  what  happened,  Martin.  He  died  that  night, 
and  George  has  been  a  most  unhappy  man.  He  never 
could  forget  that  he  had  caused  his  old  friend's  death. 

"  You  forgot  the  berries,  but  you  brought  them  in 
time,  and  we  laughed  about  it,  because  it  did  not  matter 
much;  but  it  may  matter  very  much  some  time,  when 
you  are  trusted  to  do  real  work  in  the  world.  Now  is 
the  time  to  train  your  memory  to  do  its  part  of  your 
brain-work." 

Martin  was  very  sober.  After  a  pause  he  said, 
"  Mamma,  what  kinds  of  thinking  can  I  do  better?  " 


Martin's  Thinking.  151 

"  Before  I  answer  that  question,  tell  me  what  you 
had  in  your  arithmetic  class  to-day." 

"0,  we  had  a  fine  example!  I  got  it  without  help. 
A  tank  holds  forty  gallons  of  water,  and  one  pipe  runs 
in  water  at  the  rate  of  twelve  gallons  a  minute,  an- 
other runs  it  out  at  the  rate  of  eight  gallons  a  minute, 
how  long  before  the  tank  is  full?  " 

"  How  did  you  do  it  ?  "  asked  his  mother. 

"  You  see,  I  thought  how  much  more  goes  into  the 
tank  than  out;  that  must  fill  the  tank:  it  is  four  gal- 
lons every  minute.  Then  it  will  take  as  many  minutes 
to  fill  the  tank  as  four  is  contained  times  in  forty, 
which  is  ten  times. 

"  Mary  Hall  and  I  were  the  only  ones  in  the  class 
who  thought  it  out  alone.  Then  the  teacher  told  us 
to  think  out  an  example  which  would  empty  the 
tank.  Of  course,  if  the  tank  is  full,  and  eight  gallons 
run  in  and  twelve  run  out  every  minute,  the  tank  will 
be  empty  in  ten  minutes."  Martin  liked  arithmetic 
better  than  any  other  study,  and  always  told  his 
mother  the  new  examples. 

"  Now  I  can  answer  your  question  about  the  other 
kind  of  thinking,  "  she  said,  smiling.  "  You  say,  '  If 
this  fills  the  tank,  then  that  must  empty  it ';  or  you 
might  say,  '  If  four  times  five  are  twenty,  than  five 
times  four  must  be  twenty';  that  is  called  working- 
thinking  or  reasoning.  You  reason  very  well,  but  you 
must  do  all  kinds  of  thinking  well  if  you  want  to 
have  a  good  mind." 

"  What  is  another  kind  of  thinking?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  We  will  speak  about  that  some  other  time,  my 
boy.  Now  you  may  go  and  see  that  the  dining-room  is 


152  Appendix. 

aired  and  the  table  is  set.  It  is  a  comfort  to  have  you 
to  help  me.  Here  are  your  berries."  Martin  took  the 
berries  and  put  the  largest  one  into  his  mother's  mouth. 
Then  he  went  to  work  in  the  dining-room. 

Martin  knew  just  how  his  mother  liked  to  have  the 
table  set,  and  he  took  care  to  forget  nothing.  When 
he  had  finished,  his  mother  came  in.  "  Why,  Martin, 
the  table  is  beautiful,"  she  said.  "  You  have  used 
your  memory  well  this  time.  I  see  nothing  forgotten, 
even  the  roses  are  in  the  center  of  the  table,  where  I 
like  them. 

"  I  want  to  train  my  mind  to  do  all  kinds  of  think- 
ing, mamma,"  said  Martin,  laughing. 

One  day  Martin  lay  on  the  grass  under  the  apple 
tree.  He  saw  the  white  clouds  passing  along  the  blue 
sky,  and  wondered  how  many  leaves  there  were  on  the 
tree. 

After  looking  at  them  in  a  lazy  way,  he  thought 
that  the  leaves  changed  their  color  and  shape.  In- 
stead of  being  green  and  pointed,  they  were  large 
golden  coins  —  twenty  dollars,  every  one  of  them! 

He  sprang  up,  and  climbed  the  tree  to  pick  them. 
Then  he  found  that  if  he  merely  shook  the  limbs,  the 
money  fell  in  showers  on  the  ground. 

Soon  the  grass  was  covered  with  gold,  and  the  tree 
was  bare.  Martin  climbed  down  in  such  a  hurry  that 
he  almost  fell.  Then  he  went  to  the  wood-house  and 
brought  out  some  bags  and  the  wheelbarrow,  and 
picked  up  all  the  money. 

He  lifted  a  bagful  of  gold  upon  the  wheelbarrow 
and  took  it  to  the  bank;  there  were  six  loads  of  it. 


Martin's  Thinking.  153 

The  banker  stared  in  wonder  at  the  loads  of  gold. 
But  Martin  looked  wise  and  said,  "  Never  mind." 

Then  he  took  a  handful  of  the  money  and  went  to 
town  to  buy  a  bicycle.  Next  he  mounted  his  wheel 
and  fairly  flew  home  and  told  his  mother  all  about  it. 

But  he  could  not  rest,  he  felt  so  rich  and  happy. 
Soon  he  was  down  in  the  harbor,  where  the  ships  and 
yachts  were  lying  at  anchor. 

Here  he  saw  a  large  steam-yacht,  just  like  Mr. 
Samson's,  in  which  Martin  had  once  had  a  ride.  It 
did  not  take  him  long  to  buy  the  yacht,  and  as  soon 
as  he  had  paid  for  it,  he  ordered  the  captain  to  get 
ready  to  put  to  sea. 

She  was  a  beautiful  little  vessel,  and  large  enough 
to  cross  the  ocean.  He  now  hurried  home,  and  on  the 
way  back  he  asked  some  of  his  chums  to  take  a  cruise 
around  the  world  with  him. 

Before  he  started  on  his  long  voyage  he  gave  his 
mother  and  father  thousands  and  thousands  of  dol- 
lars. Then  he  set  out  with  his  friends  upon  their 
jolly  trip. 

The  captain  and  the  sailors  could  tell  just  such 
stories  as  boys  like.  It  did  not  seem  long  before  they 
arrived  in  China.  Then  they  went  to  India,  Africa, 
Rome,  Paris,  and  London. 

The  captain  had  been  in  London  many  times,  so  he 
acted  as  their  guide.  When  Martin  was  enjoying  the 
sights  of  that  great  city,  he  heard  a  voice  that  he  knew 
very  well. 

"Martin!  Martin!"  called  his  mother.  "What 
are  you  doing  out  there?"  Martin  found  himself 
looking  at  the  green  leaves  of  the  tree  again. 


154  Appendix. 

He  was  sorry  to  come  back  from  his  cruise  around 
the  world,  and  felt  a  little  cross.  He  had  often  taken 
trips  before,  but  this  had  been  such  a  very  pleasant 
one. 

"What  were  you  doing  just  now?"  asked  his 
mother  again,  as  Martin  came  up.  She  sat  on  the 
cool  back  porch,  shelling  peas  for  dinner. 

"0,  nothing,"  answered  Martin. 

"  Were  you  really  doing  nothing  at  all  ?  " 

"  0,  I  was  looking  at  the  leaves,  and  wondering 
how  many  there  were,"  replied  Martin. 

"  What  more  were  you  thinking  ?  "  His  mother 
looked  so  smiling  and  sweet  that  Martin  felt  ashamed 
of  his  bad  humor.  Then  he  sat  down  beside  her  and 
helped  her  shell  peas.  While  they  were  busy  he 
told  her  the  story  of  his  cruise  around  the  world. 

"  Well,  well,  you  let  your  mind  run  just  like  a  colt 
in  the  pasture ! "  she  said,  laughing,  when  he  had 
finished. 

"Do  you  remember  the  different  kinds  of  think- 
ing ?  "  she  went  on. 

"  0,  yes,  of  course, "  said  Martin.  "  I '  ve  been  trying 
to  remember  ever  since." 

"  What  you  were  doing  just  now  was  the  other  kind 
of  thinking,"  said  his  mother.  "  It  was  picture-think- 
ing. Your  mind  made  wonderful  pictures  for  you." 

"  You  told  me  that  I  could  do  two  kinds  of  think- 
ing well.  One  is  the  working-thinking  and  this  is 
picture-thinking." 

"Yes,  working-thinking  is  reasoning.  Picture- 
thinking  is  imagining.  The  part  of  the  brain  which 
does  this  kind  of  thinking  is  called  the  imagination. 


Martin's  Thinking.  155 

"  You  are  doing  very  well  in  your  remembering  too.  I 
hope,  Martin,  that  you  will  soon  be  strong  in  all  your 
thinking." 

Martin  helped  his  mother  about  the  dinner  as  usual. 
When  they  were  at  the  table,  she  told  him  to  tell  his 
father  about  his  trip  around  the  world.  His  father 
laughed,  as  his  mother  had  done  when  she  had  heard 
it. 

"  Yes;  Martin  has  a  good  picture-maker  in  his 
head,"  he  said;  "  and  I  believe  he  has  sense  enough 
not  to  let  this  little  fellow  do  too  much  of  his  brain- 
work.  If  you  did,  you  would  soon  be  a  day-dreamer. 

"  Our  reason  should  always  do  the  greater  part  of 
our  brain-work.  The  memory,  too,  should  be  trained 
to  do  its  part  well.  It  would  not  do  for  me,  in  my 
business,  to  forget;  the  memory  must  do  its  part,  for 
only  by  remembering  the  lessons  which  we  learn,  can 
we  become  better  and  wiser. 

"  But  the  imagination  is  good  in  its  place;  it  helps 
the  other  two.  When  you  read  a  good  story,  pictures 
arise  before  you.  When  you  study  about  other  coun- 
tries and  peoples,  you  seem  to  see  them. 

"  In  this  way  the  imagination  is  a  great  help  to  us, 
and  a  person  who  has  a  poor  imagination,  and  does 
not  see  these  mind-pictures,  loses  much  pleasure. 

"  But  we  must  be  very  careful  to  keep  it  in  our 
power.  Some  people  let  their  imagination  run  wild, 
and  it  unfits  them  for  any  good  work." 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  know  about  it,"  said  Martin; 
"  now  I  will  watch  myself." 


COBWEBS. 

PART  I. 

IT  was  a  pleasant  summer  morning,  and  Mary  had 
gone  all  over  the  garden  again  and  again,  and  had  at 
last  lain  down  beside  the  bluebells  under  the  apple  tree. 

"  Mary,  Mary,"  called  her  mother;  "come  in  and 
help  me." 

It  was  not  a  very  loud  call,  and  Mary  said  to  her- 
self, "  Mamma  does  not  know  that  I  heard  her,  so  I 
will  stay  here,  for  it  is  nicer  here  than  in  the  house, 
dusting  and  washing  dishes." 

Just  then  she  heard  a  little  tinkle  from  a  bluebell 
near-by,  and  a  beautiful  fairy  stood  before  her,  and 
said,  "  I  am  your  fairy  godmother,  Mary,  and  I  have 
come  to  give  you  a  present.  Here  is  a  pair  of  spec- 
tacles; they  are  so  fine  that  they  cannot  be  seen  when 
you  wear  them,  but  they  will  show  you  wonderful 
things." 

Mary  was  not  at  all  afraid  of  her  fairy  godmother, 
for  she  had  always  hoped  some  day  to  see  her.  "  O, 
thank  you,"  said  she;  "  what  shall  I  see  through  them? 
Will  they  show  me  the  gold  and  diamonds  in  the 
ground,  that  Aladdin  saw?  " 

"You  will  see  when  you  wear  them;  but  before  I 
put  them  on,  you  must  promise  not  to  take  them  off. 
When  it  is  time,  I  will  take  them  off  myself.  Do  you 
promise?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  promise,"  said  Mary,  and  she  held  her 
head  very  still  while  the  fairy  put  on  the  glasses. 

156 


Cobwebs.  157 

But  what  was  the  matter?  Mary  looked  at  herself 
in  fear  and  disgust,  for  she  was  covered  all  over  with 
strings  and  cords  of  cobweb;  some  were  large  and 
strong,  while  others  were  fine  and  silky.  The  largest 
and  oldest  were  thick  and  strong,  and  held  her  bound 
very  tight. 

"  O,  what  is  the  matter  with  me?"  cried  Mary,  in 
alarm;  "  I  am  all  covered  and  tied  up  with  these  dirty 
cobwebs!  How  did  they  get  on  me?  Where  did  they 
come  from?  " 

"  The  cobwebs  that  you  see,  Mary,  are  there  all  the 
time,"  said  the  fairy.  "  You  have  not  seen  them  be- 
fore, but  we  fairies  always  see  them." 

"  But  what  are  they?  How  did  they  get  on  me?  " 
cried  Mary  again. 

"  All  these  cobwebs  are  habits,  Mary.  This  large 
dusty  cord  is  one  that  has  been  there  a  long  time,  grow- 
ing thicker  every  day.  It  is  your  worst  habit. 

"  For  years  you  have  let  it  grow,  because  you  did 
not  know  it  was  there.  It  is  your  habit  of  not  coming 
when  you  are  called.  This  habit  began  when  you 
were  only  two  years  old.  I  saw  it  the  first  day,  when 
it  was  fine  and  silky.  I  could  not  come  to  you  then, 
because  you  were  not  old  enough  to  understand.  Now 
you  are  eight  years  old,  and  it  was  time  that  you  should 
see  how  you  really  look." 

"  What  is  this  big  cobweb?  "  said  Mary,  crying,  and 
pulling  at  one  near  her  neck. 

"  That  is  this  habit  of  telling  lies.  Just  now,  when 
you  heard  your  mother  call,  you  made  up  your  mind 
to  let  her  think  that  you  had  not  heard  her.  When 
you  make  any  one  think  what  is  not  true,  you  lie.  You 


158  Appendix. 

See,  the  lie  you  thought  made  this  cobweb  grow  thicker 
and  stronger. 

"  Then  you  thought  if  your  mother  should  say, 
'  Mary,  I  called  you  a  long  time  ago;  did  you  not  hear 
me?  '  you  meant  to  answer,  l  0,  did  you  call  me?  I 
was  so  far  away,  that  I  did  not  hear  you.'  And  the 
thought  of  that  lie  also  added  a  thread  to  this  ugly 
cord." 

Mary  was  a  sorry-looking  little  girl  when  she  asked, 
"  Please,  tell  me  what  this  is."  It  was  a  large  cord 
that  went  right  across  her  mouth. 

"That  is  the  habit  of ' talking  back'  to  your  mother 
and  father.  You  do  this  most  to  your  mother.  She 
loves  you  and  wants  to  make  a  good  girl  of  you;  yet 
when  you  do  wrong,  and  she  tells  you  of  it,  you  are 
very  saucy,  and  even  say  to  yourself,  i  I  know  better 
than  mamma  does.' ': 

"  0,  what  shall  I  do?  "  cried  Mary,  pulling  at  the 
cords.  "What  shall  I  do?  Can  I  never  get  them  off  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  so  bad  as  that,"  said  the  fairy,  with  a 
cheerful  tinkle  in  her  voice.  "  Now  that  you  know 
about  them,  if  you  really  want  to  break  these  cords, 
you  can." 

"  0,  tell  me  how !     Show  me  how  ! "  cried  Mary. 

"  I  will  help  you,  if  you  want  me  to,  by  showing 
you  how  to  get  rid  of  them,  but  you  will  have  to  do 
the  work  yourself,"  said  the  fairy. 

"Yes,  yes;  show  me  how  to  get  them  off  now  !  I 
don't  want  all  these  nasty  things  holding  me  so 
tight!"  cried  Mary,  in  disgust. 

"  Mary,  these  great  cords  have  been  growing  there 
for  years.  You  cannot  tear  them  at  once,"  said  the 


Cobwebs.  159 

fairy.  "  To  tear  the  large  cords  through,  you  must 
tear  the  little  threads  that  make  them  up,  one  by 
one.  But  you  must  think  of  these  smaller  ones  too, 
or  they  will  become  just  as  strong  as  the  larger  ones." 

"  This  fine  'one,  between  the  thumb  and  first  finger, 
is  a  habit  which  just  lately  began.  You  see  it  has 
not  many  threads  yet.  It  is  the  habit  of  taking  sugar 
from  the  sugar-bowl,  or  cake  from  the  cake-box,  or 
anything  else  that  you  may  see." 

"  0,  show  me  how  to  tear  it  now,  please,"  said  Mary. 

"  You  cannot  break  a  single  thread  until  the  next 
time  that  you  have  a  chance  to  take  something.  If 
you  take  it  then,  a  thread  will  be  added  to  these;  if 
you  do  not,  it  will  tear  a  thread  away. 

"  You  see,  every  wrong  action  weaves  a  single 
thread;  but  actions  done  over  and  over  again  become 
habits;  and  habits  grow  stronger  and  stronger. 
Habits  begin  as  threads  of  cobweb,  and  end  as  iron 
chains." 

The  fairy  now  showed  Mary  another  large  cobweb. 
"  This  is  your  temper,"  she  said.  "  And  it  is  large 
and  strong.  Remember,  in  breaking  the  other  cob- 
webs, not  to  get  angry  if  it  takes  a  long  time.  Every 
time  that  you  get  angry,  you  add  a  thread  to  this 
cord." 

"  I  will  be  careful,"  said  Mary,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "  Please  help  me." 

"  If  you  want  to  get  rid  of  these  cords,  you  must 
use  every  chance  that  you  see,  to  break  the  threads. 
Here  is  one  of  which  you  can  break  a  thread  now." 

"Which  one  is  that?  What  must  I  do?"  cried 
Mary. 


160  Appendix. 

"It  is  this  habit  of  not  coming  when  you  are 
called;  your  mother  called  you  just  now.  Go  in  and 
help  her  as  she  wants  you  to." 

"  And  must  I  leave  you?  "  said  Mary. 

"  If  you  do  not  leave  me,  you  will  add  another  thread 
to  the  cord,  instead  of  breaking  one,"  said  the  fairy. 

"  Then  I  will  go,"  said  Mary  slowly. 

"  That  is  right,"  said  the  fairy,  "  and  come  back  to 
the  bluebells  this  afternoon,  when  your  work  is  done," 
and  with  a  little  tinkle  the  fairy  was  gone. 

PART  II. 

When  Mary  reached  the  bluebells  in  the  afternoon, 
she  expected  to  find  the  fairy  there.  She  was  very 
happy,  for  she  saw  that  the  web  between  her  thumb 
and  forefinger  had  lost  several  threads,  as  had  also 
the  one  across  her  mouth,  and  she  wanted  to  tell  the 
fairy  about  it. 

But  no  fairy  was  to  be  seen.  She  wandered  about 
for  a  while,  looking  for  her,  and  at  last  sat  down  to 
wait;  but  the  longer  she  waited,  the  more  impatient 
she  became.  The  words  of  the  fairy  had  been  an  in- 
vitation. Mary  thought  it  meant  a  promise  to  meet 
her;  then  why  did  she  not  keep  her  promise?  She 
was  getting  very  angry,  and  thought  of  going  away. 

Then  she  remembered  what  the  fairy  had  said 
about  her  temper,  and  she  looked  for  that  web.  Yes, 
—  sure  enough,  — a  fine  new  thread  was  forming  on  it. 

"O,  I  must  not  get  angry;  I  must  be  patient,"  she 
said  to  herself.  So  she  lay  down  under  the  apple 
tree  in  the  grass,  to  wait  quietly  until  the  fairy  should 


Cobwebs.  161 

come.  "  And  if  she  does  not  come,"  she  thought,  "  it 
will  be  because  she  thinks  it  best,  and  I  will  be  care- 
ful not  to  be  cross  about  it." 

At  first  her  ears  were  open  to  every  little  sound, 
listening  for  the  fairy-bell.  But  presently  she  began 
to  think  about  her  work  that  morning, — how  pleased 
her  mother  had  been,  and  how  much  pleasure  it  had 
given  herself, — and  she  made  up  her  mind  to  go  in 
before  her  mother  called  her,  to  help  about  the  sup- 
per. She  had  quite  forgotten  the  fairy  when  she  was 
aroused  by  the  silvery  tinkle  of  her  bell,  and  the 
fairy  stood  before  her. 

"You  have  done  well, — very  well, — Mary,"  said 
the  fairy.  "  Now  I  will  both  help  and  reward  you  by 
taking  you  on  a  fairy  trip  with  me,  to  show  you  some 
things  we  fairies  see." 

She  put  a  cap  on  Mary's  head.  "  Now  no  one  can 
see  you,  or  hear  you  speak,"  she  said.  Then  she 
touched  Mary's  feet  with  her  wand,  and  the  two 
floated  away  through  the  air.  It  was  delightful  for 
Mary  to  float  high  above  flowers  and  trees,  and  yet  to 
feel  as  safe  as  on  the  ground. 

"  Here  is  a  pair  of  glasses  belonging  to  the  fairy 
godmother  of  old  Jack  Hooker,"  said  the  fairy.  "  You 
know  that  every  one,  even  an  old  drunkard  like  Jack, 
has  a  fairy  godmother;  and  she  loves  him  just  as 
much  as  I  love  you." 

"  Then  why  did  she  not  let  Jack  wear  the  glasses?" 
asked  Mary. 

"  She  did,"  was  the  sad  reply;  "but  when  he  saw  the 
cobwebs  about  him  he  said,  "  O,  these  are  only  a  few 
cobwebs;  I  can  brush  them  off  when  I  want  to."  But 


162  Appendix. 

they  grew  stronger  and  stronger,  and  now  you  shall 
see  how  an  old  drunkard  like  Jack  looks  to  us." 

She  put  Jack's  glasses  on  Mary,  right  over  her  own. 
Mary  could  now  see  all  of  Jack's  habits. 

The  poor  old  man  was  pruning  trees  in  Banker 
Dollard's  orchard.  Great  iron  chains  bound  him  and 
made  every  movement  hard  and  painful.  Mary  could 
even  see  his  thoughts  while  he  was  working.  "  When 
I  am  through  with  this,  I  shall  get  a  dollar  and  a 
half,"  he  was  thinking;  "  then  I  will  get  my  jug  filled, 
and  drink,  drink,  drink!  " 

Mary  could  see  one  of  the  chains  grow  shorter  and 
thicker  as  he  thought  this,  until  it  nearly  choked  him, 
and  he  almost  screamed  with  thirst.  "  O,  can  nobody 
help  him?  "  cried  Mary,  the  tears  rolling  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  He  can  never  be  helped,"  said  the  fairy,  "  until  he 
sees  the  chains  which  bind  him,  and  really  wants  to 
break  them.  His  fairy  godmother  is  a  friend  of  mine. 
She  is  often  sad  about  him.  I  am  glad  that  you  want 
to  help  him.  Perhaps  some  time  you  may." 

"  Now  we  will  see  Banker  Dollard,"  she  went  on; 
"  and  his  fairy  has  also  given  me  his  glasses,  so  that 
you  may  see  what  his  habits  are." 

They  entered  the  private  room  of  the  bank  where 
Mr.  Dollard  sat  at  his  desk.  His  fingers,  hands,  arms, 
and  even  his  brain  and  heart,  were  loaded  down  with 
great  iron  chains. 

"  You  see  he  is  worse  than  poor,  weak  Jack,"  said 
the  fairy.  "  He  is  seventy  years  old,  and  for  fifty  years 
he  has  thought  of  nothing  but  money,  money,  money. 
His  mother  and  father  lost  their  son  when  he  began 


Cobwebs.  163 

to  love  money.  He  did  not  help  them,  and  they  died 
poor.  His  wife  was  most  unhappy,  for  her  husband 
loved  only  money;  even  for  his  only  son  he  had  no 
smiles.  The  poor  boy  has  lived  a  sad  life  in  the  grand 
house  which  he  called  home,  because  there  was  no  love 
to  warm  it." 

A  poorly  dressed  man,  with  a  worried,  tired  face, 
entered  the  room  where  the  banker  sat  at  his  desk. 
"  O,  Mr.  Dollard,"  he  said,  trembling,  "  they  are  go- 
ing to  take  my  farm  away  from  me  to-day  unless  I 
pay  them!  Please  lend  me  five  hundred  dollars.  It 
is  so  little  to  you,  and  it  will  save  my  dear  old  home." 

Mary  could  see  the  chain  around  the  banker's  heart 
draw  closer  around  it,  until  the  heart  was  as  hard  as 
stone;  when  she  looked  into  his  face  she  saw  that  he 
was  very  pale,  —  almost  blue  he  seemed  to  her. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  expect  to  pay  me  back?  "  he 
asked  with  a  cold  smile. 

"  I  will  pay  you  as  soon  as  my  crops  are  harvested. 
I  have  good  crops  in  the  field;  they  will  more  than 
pay  it  back." 

"We  cannot  trust  to  crops,"  was  the  unkind  an- 
swer; "  a  year  ago  you  gave  a  thousand  dollars  to  save 
a  neighbor's  home.  He  has  not  paid  you;  now  you 
will  lose  your  own  home.  You  were  very  unwise. 
'  Every  man  for  himself,'  is  my  motto. "  With  this 
the  banker  turned  to  his  work  again. 

As  the  farmer  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  another 
man  entered.  "  Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Goodman?  " 
he  said,  taking  the  farmer's  hand.  "  It  is  a  long  time 
since  I  have  seen  you !  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Moore,  I  have  been  very  hard  at  work. 


164  Appendix. 

I  have  not  had  time  to  see  my  friends.  But  now  they 
are  going  to  take  my  farm,  after  all  my  hard  work." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter?  "  asked  Mr.  Moore.  So 
the  farmer  told  him  all  about  his  trouble. 

Mr.  Moore  turned  to  the  banker.  "  How  is  this? 
Cannot  you  help  him?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  has  nothing  but  his  crops  to  pay  his  debts; 
they  may  fail,  and  I  can  take  no  risks." 

"  Very  well,  then  I  will  take  the  risk  and  give  him 
what  he  needs,"  said  Mr.  Moore. 

Mary  and  the  fairy  now  left  the  banker's  room,  and 
the  fairy  said,  "  Mr.  Moore  and  Mr.  Goodman  are 
very  good  men,  each  in  his  own  way.  When  they 
were  young,  long  before  the  habits  of  their  lives  were 
hard  as  iron,  their  fairy  godmothers  gave  them  their 
glasses,  and  when  they  saw  their  danger,  as  you  did 
yours,  they  went  to  work,  slowly  and  carefully,  to 
break  the  cords  which  were  beginning  to  bind  them. 
Mr.  Moore  is  a  rich  man  who  helps  others  as  much  as 
he  can.  Mr.  Goodman  is  not  rich,  but  he,  too,  does 
what  he  can.  So  each  has  kept  himself  free  from  the 
chains  which  bind  so  many  people,  and  keep  them 
from  doing  good  in  the  world." 

"  I  like  them  both,"  said  Mary,  "  and  I  want  to 
learn  to  be  kind  and  helpful,  as  they  are." 

"  Yes,  and  remember  that  every  great  thing  begins 
as  a  small  thing.  The  oak  is  large  and  strong  and 
gives  shade  to  many,  but  it  was  once  an  acorn.  If 
children  begin  in  their  homes  to  be  kind  and  true  and 
faithful,  they  will  be  ready  for  greater  work  when 
they  are  men .  and  women,"  said  the  fairy.  "  Now  we 
will  go  to  see  Mrs.  Woods."  So  the  two  floated  away. 


Cobwebs.  165 

Mrs.  Woods  was  one  of  the  richest  women  in  the 
town.  When  Mary  looked  at  her  through  the  glasses, 
she  saw  great  chains  on  her  too.  "  You  see  the  largest 
chain  is  her  habit  of  telling  false  stories  ahout  other 
people,"  said  the  fairy.  "  Sometimes  there  is  a  little 
truth  in  them,  and  sometimes  there  is  no  truth  at  all. 
If  she  wished,  she  might  break  her  chains,  thread  by 
thread;  but,  like  Jack  and  the  banker,  she  does  not 
want  to  do  this." 

"  There  is  still  another  woman  whom  I  want  you  to 
see,  for  you  always  want  so  much  to  be  beautiful. 
Now  you  shall  see  what  a  beauty  may  come  to,  unless 
she  is  very  careful.  It  is  harder  for  a  beautiful  girl 
or  woman  to  keep  off  the  cobwebs  than  for  others." 

When  they  entered  the  house  where  Mrs.  Pratt 
lived,  they  found  her  before  a  mirror,  trying  on  a 
beautiful  gown  she  intended  to  wear  that  evening. 
Her  children  sat  around,  sad  and  quiet;  they  did  not 
dare  to  disturb  their  mother. 

If  Mary  had  seen  her  without  her  glasses,  she  would 
have  thought  that  such  a  lovely  woman  must  be 
good  too;  but  the  glasses  told  a  sad  story  of  selfish- 
ness and  vanity.  She  was  thinking  only  of  herself, 
and  was  nodding  and  smiling  at  her  image  in  the 
glass.  Mary  could  see  her  think,  "  I  shall  be  the 
most  beautiful  woman  at  the  ball;  every  one  will 
come  to  dance  with  me." 

To  Mary  she  looked  awful  as  she  smiled  under  the 
dirty  cobwebs  that  covered  her  face,  and  hung  in 
chains  around  her.  "  O,  if  she  could  only  see  herself 
as  she  is,"  she  sighed,  "  all  her  pride  would  be  gone, 
and  she  would  try  to  break  these  chains.  Her  poor 
children,  how  unhappy  they  must  be!" 


166  Appendix. 

"She  has  worn  her  glasses,  you  may  be  sure;  but 
she  did  not  want  to  see  these  chains.  She  wanted  to 
have  pleasure,  and  thought  that  the  duties  at  home 
were  dull.  To-night  she  will  leave  her  tired  husband 
at  home  to  care  for  the  children,  while  she  will  go  to 
the  ball  with  a  friend." 

They  left  the  vain  woman  still  nodding  and  smiling 
at  her  image  in  the  mirror.  Mary  left  with  a  heavy 
heart.  She  was  so  sorry  for  the  little  children!  As 
she  passed  the  clock,  she  saw  that  it  was  almost  time 
to  go  home  and  help  her  mother  with  the  supper. 

"  Now,  please,  dear  godmother,  it  is  almost  time  for 
me  to  be  at  home  to  help  mother.  If  Mrs.  Pratt  for- 
gets her  children,  it  makes  me  think  that  it  is  just  as 
bad  to  forget  my  mother.  I  will  try  never  to  neglect 
any  one  again." 

"I  hoped  you  would  say  what  you  did,  Mary,"  said 
the  fairy.  "You  will  soon  be  free,  I  am  sure.  You 
are  in  earnest  abou^  getting  these  cords  off! 

"I  am  glad  that  you  want  to  do  all  you  can  for 
your  mother  too.  She  is  beautiful  to  fairies!  She 
may  look  wrinkled  and  tired  to  others,  but  we  see 
her  as  she  is,  and  she  is  lovely!" 

"  0,  I  know;  she  is  the  best  and  dearest  mother  in 
the  world,  and  I  am  going  to  try  to  make  her  happy  I " 
cried  Mary. 

"You  are  safe,  Mary,  and  I  am  very  happy.  Re- 
member to  be  careful  not  to  lose  your  temper  while 
you  work  to  make  yourself  free.  I  will  come  to  see 
you  again,"  said  the  fairy;  "but  for  this  time  I  must 
say  good  by!" 

Mary  heard  the  fairy  tinkle,  and  found  herself  in 
the  grass  near  the  bluebells  again. 


Cobwebs.  167 

She  ran  into  the  house  and  went  to  work.  Slowly 
and  carefully  she  began  to  tear  the  heavy  cords.  She 
did  right,  where  she  had  done  wrong  before;  she  was 
cheerful,  where  she  had  pouted. 

Her  mother  was  surprised  at  the  change  in  her  little 
daughter.  Mary  was  so  willing  and  cheerful  about 
her  work,  she  seemed  to  be  trying  to  forget  herself 
and  think  only  of  others. 

Soon  the  sadness  in  the  mother's  face  was  almost 
gone,  because  her  heart  kept  singing,  "  I  have  a  dear 
little  child!  Her  life  is  a  blessing  to  me,  and  will  be 
a  blessing  to  all  who  come  near  her." 

And  the  fairy  found  a  happy,  free  little  girl  when 
she  came  to  see  Mary,  a  year  later,  when  the  bluebells 
were  in  blossom  again. 


THE   MINER'S  SON. 

FAR  under  the  ground  was  the  home  of  little  Hans. 
He  had  always  lived  there,  because  his  father  had 
been  a  miner,  and  his  mother  had  lived  in  the  mine 
too. 

Many  people  lived  down  in  this  beautiful  salt  mine; 
for  years  and  years  they  never  saw  the  sunlight,  be- 
cause it  took  a  long  time  to  go  up,  and  they  were  poor. 

The  children  of  the  miners  played  together  under 
the  large  lamps  that  were  kept  burning  night  and  day. 

The  walls  and  pillars  that  held  up  the  earth  above 
them  were  made  of  shining  rock-salt,  which  shone  like 
diamonds  in  the  light. 

Little  Hans  was  very  lonely  sometimes.  His  mother 
had  died  when  he  was  only  thrco  years  old,  and  his 
father  was  killed  in  the  mine  a  year  later;  the  miners 
all  liked  Hans  and  let  him  grow  up  with  their  children, 
but  sometimes  the  poor  boy  longed  to  have  some  one 
who  cared  for  him. 

Hans  had  a  little  box  in  which  he  kept  his  things. 
Among  these  was  a  Noah's-ark,  with  houses,  and  trees, 
and  cows,  and  sheep,  and  men  and  women.  His  father 
had  given  it  to  Hans  not  long  before  he  died. 

Hans  had  played  with  these  wonderful  wooden  trees 
and  animals  for  years.  He  had  wondered  what  the 
world  above  looked  like,  and  he  wished  so  much  to 
see  it. 

One  day,  when  Hans  was  ten  years  old,  the  priest 
168 


The  Miner's  Son.  169 

came  down  into  the  mine.  He  spoke  kindly  to  all 
the  hard-working  miners  and  their  wives,  and  brought 
a  little  cross  and  beads  to  all  the  children.  Then  he 
stayed  to  teach  them. 

Hans  was  a  bright  boy,  and  the  priest  liked  him 
very  much. 

"  Who  is  your  father,  my  boy?"  he  said,  kindly,  to 
Hans  one  day,  when  the  lesson  was  over;  "  I  want  to 
speak  with  him  about  you." 

Poor  little  Hans  had  a  lonesome  heart,  and  tears 
came  into  his  eyes  as  he  told  his  story  to  the  priest. 
"  Is  there  not  some  uncle  or  aunt  who  would  care  for 
you  and  send  you  to  school?  "  asked  the  priest  kindly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Hans  replied;  "  ask  Mother  Minta; 
maybe  she  knows.  She  saw  my  father  die." 

Mother  Minta  knew  nothing  about  the  family,  but 
gave  the  priest  some  letters  which  had  been  left  by 
Hans's  parents. 

The  priest  took  the  letters  and  promised  Hans  that 
he  would  try  to  find  out  something  about  his  people. 
He  kissed  the  little  boy  on  his  white  forehead  when 
he  left  to  go  up  to  the  great  busy  world  above. 

When  Father  Stephen,  the  kind  priest,  returned 
after  three  days,  he  told  Hans  that  he  had  found  his 
grandmother,  who  was  very  glad  to  hear  that  her 
little  grandson  was  living,  and  wished  to  see  him  very 
much. 

He  told  Hans  to  be  ready  to  go  up  with  him  the 
next  day.  Hans  was  wild  with  delight,  but  the  priest 
told  him  to  say  nothing  to  the  other  children  about 
it,  because  it  would  make  them  unhappy.  It  is  the 
great  wish  of  these  little  children  to  see  the  sunlight 


170  Appendix. 

and  the  blue  sky  and  the  green  fields,  of  which  they 
have  heard  so  much,  and  Father  Stephen  was  sorry 
that  he  could  not  take  them  all. 

The  next  day  Hans  said  "  good  by"  to  all  the 
people,  very  quietly,  while  the  priest  stood  near,  wait- 
ing for  him;  only  his  shining  eyes  told  how  happy  he 
was. 

The  good  people  were  sorry  to  lose  Hans,  and  they 
told  the  priest  what  a  good  boy  he  was.  Some  of  his 
playmates  were  very  sorry,  and  it  made  Hans  feel 
sad,  too,  when  he  said  "  good  by  "  to  them. 

Up,  up,  up  they  went,  through  the  shaft.  At  last 
a  queer  light  was  seen,  and  the  car  stopped.  The 
priest  helped  Hans  out.  Now,  in  the  daylight,  he 
noticed  how  very  white  the  little  boy  was. 

"  Where  is  the  sun?"  asked  Hans,  when  they 
reached  the  top  of  the  long  shaft.  The  priest  led  him 
out  of  the  station-house,  and  said,  "  This  is  a  cloudy 
day,  my  boy,  and  the  sun  cannot  be  seen,  but  all  the 
light  which  you  see  is  from  the  sun.  It  is  well  for 
you  that  the  sun  is  not  shining,  for  your  eyes  might 
be  harmed  by  the  bright  light."  The  priest  knew 
that  he  would  have  many  questions  to  answer. 

Hans  looked  with  wondering  eyes  at  the  sky,  with 
the  clouds  rolling  by,  and  the  broad  green  earth,  with 
the  blue  mountains  in  the  distance. 

For  a  time  his  heart  was  too  full  to  speak.  All  his 
life  he  had  dreamed  of  seeing  the  earth,  and  now  he 
was  so  surprised  to  find  everything  so  different  from 
what  he  thought  it  would  be. 

"  Is  it  as  beautiful  as  you  thought  it  would  be?" 
asked  Father  Stephen,  at  last. 


The  Miner's  Son.  171 

"  It  is  so  wide;  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  so,"  re- 
plied Hans.  "All  the  people  must  be  very  happy 
who  live  in  this  wide  earth.  I  feel  the  wind;  every- 
thing moves.  0,  I  think  it  is  so  good  of  you  to  bring 
me!" 

"  What  is  that?  "  he  asked,  pointing  to  a  large  tree. 

"  That  is  a  tree,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  it  moves  and  swings.     Will  it  fall?  " 

"No;  it  has  great  roots,  which  hold  it  in  the  ground; 
then  the  trunk  holds  it  up  and  the  wind  moves  the 
limbs." 

"  What  is  that  moving  up  in  the  sky?  "  he  asked 
next. 

"  Those  are  clouds.     The  wind  moves  them." 

"  Nobody  ever  told  me  about  the  clouds!"  mused 
Hans,  as  he  followed  them  with  his  eyes.  "  And  the 
cloth  on  the  ground,  what  is  that  for?  "  he  went  on, 
pointing  to  the  grass. 

"  We  will  look  at  it,"  said  the  priest.  He  kneeled 
down,  and  pulled  some  to  show  Hans  how  it  grew  in 
the  ground.  "  This  is  grass,"  he  said;  "  it  covers  the 
earth  and  makes  it  bright  and  beautiful.  Many 
animals  eat  it.  God  makes  everything  beautiful; 
even  every  little  blade  of  grass  is  beautiful." 

"  O,  I  am  glad  to  see  it.  I  feel  the  wind  all  the 
time,  and  I  can  breathe  better!  " 

They  walked  down  through  the  village  to  the  tavern. 
All  the  people  who  saw  them  knew  that  the  priest 
was  taking  a  little  boy  from  the  mines  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  and  they  looked  at  Hans  kindly,  and 
smiled.  Hans  never  forgot  the  kind  smiles,  and  he 
did  not  wonder  that  the  people  could  be  happy  up 
here  in  the  lovely  world. 


172  Appendix. 

"  That  is  a  cow:  it  has  horns.  0,  how  big  it  is! 
Don't  they  sometimes  eat  people?  "  said  Hans. 

"  No;  cows  eat  only  plants.  They  like  grass;  you 
may  see  her  eat  this."  He  gave  the  cow  a  handful  of 
grass,  and  Hans  watched  her  eat.  "  You  see,  they 
give  us  milk,  and  butter,  and  cheese;  they  are  very 
good  and  gentle  animals  when  we  treat  them  kindly." 

"  0,  what  is  that?"  cried  Hans,  holding  the  priest's 
hand  very  closely. 

"  That  will  not  hurt  you;  it  is  a  horse  and  wagon. 
See,  the  man  drives  the  horse;  he  can  make  it  go 
wherever  he  likes." 

Hans  now  laughed  at  his  own  fright.  They  came 
to  the  tavern.  The  rooms  were  large,  and  rather  dark 
and  smoky.  "  Are  all  the  houses  up  here  like  this 
one?  "  he  asked. 

"  No;  this  is  an  old  tavern,"  was  the  reply.  "  We 
have  many  kinds  of  houses.  The  most  beautiful  are 
the  houses  that  we  build  for  God.  I  will  let  you  see 
a  church,  but  we  must  eat  now,  or  we  shall  lose  our 
train." 

Father  Stephen  now  told  the  maid  to  bring  them 
some  lunch.  Hans  thought  he  had  never  tasted  any- 
thing as  good  as  the  meat  and  bread  and  milk  which 
were  set  before  them. 

When  they  had  finished  their  meal,  they  went  out 
and  the  priest  said  that  now  Hans  should  see  a  church. 
Hans  went  in  and  prayed  in  the  beautiful  little  church, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 

Then  they  hurried  on  to  the  station.  They  waited 
for  the  train  on  the  platform.  Hans  asked  many 
questions  about  everything  he  saw. 


The  Miner's  Son.  173 

Suddenly  they  heard  a  loud  shriek  and  a  roar. 
Hans  looked  in  fear,  and  saw  a  great  monster  coming 
toward  them.  It  had  only  one  great  angry  eye,  and 
Hans  was  so  afraid  that  he  could  hardly  breathe. 

He  wanted  to  run  away,  but  he  could  not  move; 
only  his  heart  beat  faster  and  faster.  Father  Stephen 
looked  at  him,  and  said,  smiling,  "  Do  not  be  afraid, 
my  boy;  I  will  not  let  anything  hurt  you.  This  is 
the  train  which  will  carry  us  to  your  grandmother's 
house.  See,  it  is  made  of  iron,"  he  said,  leading  the 
trembling  boy  to  the  puffing,  steaming  monster.  "  The 
men  inside  can  make  it  stop  or  run,  just  as  they  like." 

"  Now  we  must  get  into  one  of  the  cars,"  said  Father 
Stephen.  "  You  are  not  afraid  now,  are  you?"  Hans 
blushed  at  his  fear,  and  said,  "  No  I  will  try  never  to 
be  afraid  again." 

Soon  they  were  flying  through  the  beautiful  country, 
and  Hans  could  hardly  speak,  because  he  was  so  happy 
to  see  the  earth. 

In  the  afternoon  he  said,  "Light,  light,  —  why, 
Father,  there  is  light  all  over  everything!  It  is  just 
like  gold  in  the  air;  it  must  be  the  sun!  " 

"  Yes,  you  are  right;  it  is  the  sun  coming  out,"  said 
the  Father.  "You  must  not  look  at  the  sun  yet. 
Later,  when  it  is  going  down,  you  may  see  it.  Your 
eyes  might  become  weak  if  you  look  at  the  light  much 
yet." 

Hans  drank  in  the  beauty  of  the  sky  and  the  earth, 
with  the  sunshine  over  all.  It  was  like  fairyland  to 
him. 

"  Now,  when  the  train  stops  again,  we  will  get  off," 
said  Father  Stephen.  Hans  felt  his  heart  beat  fast 


174  Appendix* 

at  the  thought  of  seeing  his  own  people,  who  loved 
him  because  they  had  loved  his  mother. 

When  they  got  off  the  train  and  went  around  the 
station-house,  they  went  to  see  the  sunset.  In  all  his 
dreams  of  beauty  Hans  had  never  thought  of  such 
beauty  as  this.  The  sky  was  gold  and  pink  and 
white,  with  little  golden  islands  floating  near  the  sun. 
Hans  folded  his  hands  as  if  he  were  praying;  as  long 
as  he  lived  he  remembered  this  first  sunset. 

"  That  is  the  sun  as  we  see  it  almost  every  day  at 
this  time,"  said  the  Father.  "We  do  not  see  the 
beauty,  because  we  are  so  used  to  it;  but  we  should 
look  at  it  every  day.  Some  day,  when  you  have  seen 
the  sun  go  down  many,  many  times,  you  will  hardly 
look  at  it,  I  am  afraid." 

"No;  I  shall  look  at  it  always,"  said  Hans.  "O 
Father,  it  is  like  heaven." 

Now  they  got  into  a  carriage  and  drove  through 
fields  and  woods,  past  pleasant  farmhouses  and 
beautiful  streams  of  water.  Hans  learned  of  new 
things  on  every  side,  but  he  could  not  take  his  eyes 
off  the  sunset;  when  he  had  watched  the  last  rays  lost 
in  the  darkness,  he  turned  to  Father  Stephen  again. 

"What  is  that,  and  that,  and  that?"  he  cried,  point- 
ing to  the  sky. 

"  Can  you  guess  what  they  are?"  asked  the  Father. 

"  They  must  be  the  stars,  but  how  small  they  are! 
I  thought  they  would  be  much  larger." 

"  Many  of  those  tiny  stars  are  great  suns,  just  like 
our  sun;  but  they  are  so  far  away,  that  we  see  them 
as  stars." 

"There  is  the  moon."  Hans  said  this  as  if  the 
moon  were  an  old  friend  of  his.  "  See  how  it  moves!" 


The  Miner's  Son.  175 

"  Yes;  that  is  the  moon.  You  are  taking  your  first 
moonlight  ride."  Slowly  and  softly  the  moon  rose 
higher  and  higher.  Hans  could  say  nothing.  He 
was  looking  at  the  river  and  the  woods  and  the 
fields,  with  the  moonlight  over  all. 

At  last  they  stopped  before  a  vine-covered  cottage 
in  the  village.  A  door  opened,  and  a  flash  of  light 
streamed  out.  Then  Father  Stephen  led  the  pale  boy 
into  the  home  of  his  grandmother. 

Little  Hans  was  in  loving  arms.  He  was  happy  to 
feel  that  now  he  had  some  one  who  cared  for  him,  as 
the  other  children  had.  There  was  a  dainty  feast 
spread  in  honor  of  the  little  son  who  was  found. 
Father  Stephen  stayed  and  was  happy  with  them. 

When  he  went  away,  Hans  held  his  hand  and 
kissed  it.  The  Father  stroked  his  head  and  said, 
"  Hans  and  I  are  good  friends.  Good  by,  my  son;  I 
will  come  to  see  you  again!" 

The  beauty  which  this  poor  little  miner's  son  loved 
so  much  never  grew  old  to  him.  Every  day  he 
studied  the  beauty  of  the  earth  around  him. 

Years  passed;  he  was  very  happy  going  to  school 
and  helping  his  grandmother  at  home.  Father  Ste- 
phen kept  his  word,  and  afterwards  he  sent  Hans  to 
a  school,  where  he  became  a  great  painter. 

Thousands  of  people  stood  before  his  pictures  of  the 
sunsets  and  wondered  at  the  beauty  of  the  earth. 
But  Hans  thought,  "  Why  do  they  not  open  their  eyes 
and  see  the  beauty  for  themselves!  It  is  before  them 
in  the  sky  and  the  woods  and  the  sea  all  the  time.  I 
can  not  paint  it  as  beautiful  as  God  has  made  it!" 


"DOCTOR  CHARLES." 

ONE  day  Mrs.  Blake  was  sewing  a  waist  for  her  little 
boy,  Dexter.  He  was  so  very  small  and  thin  for  his 
age,  that  everybody  called  him  Dot. 

Mrs.  Blake  had  been  ill  for  a  long  time,  and  stran- 
gers had  sewed  for  the  children,  while  his  older  brother, 
Charles,  had  taken  care  of  Dot. 

When  Mrs.  Blake  fitted  the  waist,  she  noticed  that 
one  side  of  his  back  was  different  from  the  other.  She 
looked  at  the  thin  little  body  more  closely,  and  saw, 
for  the  first  time,  that  the  backbone,  or  spine,  was 
very  much  curved. 

This  frightened  her,  for  she  knew  that  if  it  were  not 
cured,  he  would  be  a  cripple  by  the  time  he  grew  up. 

Going  to  the  door,  she  blew  the  horn,  which  always 
brought  Charles  home.  He  was  playing  baseball  with 
some  schoolmates,  not  far  away. 

In  a  few  minutes  Charles  appeared;  he  was  a  strong, 
healthy  boy,  with  kind,  laughing  eyes,  and  a  very  red 
face  from  running. 

"  Charles,  come  in  and  look  at  Dot's  back!  "  said 
his  mother. 

Charles  came  up  to  see.  "  Did  you  ever  see  this 
curve  in  his  back?  0  Charles,  if  it  can't  be  cured  he 
will  be  a  cripple  for  life!  Run  for  the  doctor;  we  must 
not  put  it  off  another  hour!  " 

Charles  had  taken  care  of  his  little  brother  ever 
176 


"Doctor  Charles."  177 

since  Dot  was  a  baby,  and  the  thought  that  he  might 
be  a  cripple  for  life  made  him  run  faster  and  faster. 

When  the  doctor  had  carefully  looked  his  patient 
over,  he  said,  as  he  shook  his  head,  "It  is  bad;  but 
the  boy  is  young,  and  there  is  hope  that  he  may  yet 
be  cured." 

"  What  he  needs  is,  not  medicine,  but  rubbing,  fresh  i 
air,   and  good  food.     Every  day,  for  two  hours,  he 
must  be  rubbed  with  a  liniment  which  I  shall  leave." 

Charles  had  remained  in  the  room  to  hear  what  the 
doctor  would  say.  He  knew  that  he  was  the  only  one 
who  could  do  the  rubbing.  His  mother  was  not  strong, 
and  his  father  was  away  on  business  most  of  the  time. 

"  Doctor,  how  do  you  want  him  rubbed?"  he  asked. 
"  I  want  you  to  show  me  how,  because  mother  is  not 
strong  enough,  and  father  is  not  at  home  much." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  doctor;  "  but  do  you  think 
you  will  feel  like  doing  it  two  hours  every  day?  It 
may  be  months  before  he  is  well.  I  think  your  father 
had  better  hire  some  one  to  do  it;  because  there  is 
nothing  else  that  will  cure  him." 

Charles  knew  that  his  father  could  not  well  afford 
to  pay  any  one  else,  so  he  said,  "  I  can  do  it,  doctor,  I 
know!  See  my  arms;  I've  got  fine  muscle!"  and 
Charles  rolled  up  his  sleeve  to  prove  what  he  said. 

There  was  something  in  the  boy's  face  that  made 
the  doctor  trust  him. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  show  you  how  to  do  it,  Charles," 
he  said.  "  Roll  up  your  sleeves  and  go  to  work." 

Then  he  showed  Charles  just  how  to  rub  the  soft 
muscles  to  make  them  stronger.  "  You  see,  he  has 
been  in  bed  so  much,"  the  doctor  explained,  u  that  all 


178  Appendix. 

the  muscles  of  the  back  are  not  strong  enough  to  hold 
up  the  spine,  and  that  makes  it  curve." 

Charles  learned  how  to  do  it  very  quickly,  and  as 
his  strong  brown  hands  moved  over  the  white  skin  so 
firmly,  yet  tenderly,  the  doctor  said,  "  You  are  going 
to  do  very  well,  Charles,  unless  you  tire  of  it;  but, 
remember,  you  are  giving  him  the  only  thing  he  needs 
to  get  well." 

Day  by  day  and  month  by  month,  Charles  gave 
Dot  "  his  medicine,"  as  he  called  it,  —  once  before  Dot 
was  up  in  the  morning,  and  again  when  he  was  in  bed 
for  the  night. 

The  doctor  told  Charles  just  what  outdoor  exercise 
he  wanted  Dot  to  have.  "  Teach  him  to  run  and  jump 
and  play  ball,"  he  said.  "  Of  course  you  must  never 
let  him  get  very  tired." 

"  Charles  is  so  careful  with  Dot,  doctor,"  said  their 
mother,  "  I  know  you  can  trust  him! " 

When  Mr.  Blake  came  home,  and  heard  about  Dot's 
trouble,  he  was  as  much  frightened  as  his  wife  had 
been.  He  often  watched  Charles  as  he  did  the  rub- 
bing, and  offered  to  do  it  whenever  he  was  at  home; 
but  Charles  would  not  agree  to  this.  His  father  was 
glad  to  see  him  so  faithful,  and  called  him  "  Doctor 
Charles." 

As  time  went  on,  the  doctor  looked  more  and  more 
pleased  when  he  came  to  look  at  his  patient. 

Almost  a  year  after  his  first  visit,  he  smiled  and 
said  to  Charles,  "You  have  just  about  cured  him; 
and  I  must  say  that  I  have  never  seen  it  done  better 
and  more  faithfully  in  the  best  hospitals."  But  he 
told  Charles  to  keep  up  the  rubbing  two  or  three  times 
a  week  for  some  time  yet. 


"  Doctor  Charles."  179 

The  two  brothers  had  always  been  fond  of  each 
other;  but  now  Dot  seemed  to  feel  how  much  his 
great  big  brother  had  done  for  him,  and  he  clung  to 
him  very  tenderly;  while  Charles  felt  that  there  could 
not  be  a  dearer  little  fellow  in  the  world  than  Dot. 

One  would  hardly  have  known  Dot  a  year  later. 
He  was  strong  and  brown,  and  captain  of  a  baseball 
team!  Yes,  it  seems  queer,  but  it  was  true.  They 
were  called  the  "  Baby  Nine  of  Cedar  Flats." 

When  Charles  sat  down  to  breakfast  on  the  morn- 
ing of  his  fourteenth  birthday,  he  found  a  beautiful 
silver  watch  near  his  plate.  It  was  an  open-faced 
watch,  and  on  the  back  was  a  baseball  and  bat,  and 
around  in  a  circle  these  words,  "  To  my  dear  brother 
Charles,  from  Dot." 


CONSIDERATION. 

WHEN  we  do  some  one  else  a  favor,  we  are  kind  to 
him;  but  when  we  do  this  kindness  in  such  a  way  as 
not  to  hurt  his  feelings,  then  we  show  consideration. 

Some  people  are  very  kind  at  heart,  but  when  they 
try  to  help  others,  they  are  thoughtless  and  often 
hurt  their  feelings. 

Sarah  Newman  was  the  daughter  of  a  very  rich 
man.  She  had  a  beautiful  home  and  everything  which 
wealth  could  give  her;  but  she  was  so  kind-hearted 
that  everybody  liked  her. 

Her  best  friend  was  Lily  Morton,  who  lived  in  a 
tiny  house  near  Sarah's  home. 

Lily's  mother  was  a  widow  with  a  large  family  of 
children.  She  found  it  very  hard  to  give  them  every- 
thing they  needed. 

Mrs.  Newman  and  her  daughter  Sarah  helped  the 
family  in  every  way  they  could,  by  giving  them  food 
and  clothing.  It  seemed  to  Sarah  that  she  had  no 
right  to  eat  her  good  food,  unless  she  knew  that  Lily 
had  something  good  too. 

So  Lily  brought  a  basket  with  well-cooked  food 
from  their  kind  neighbors  very  often,  and  this  was  a 
welcome  help  to  her  tired  mother. 

One  day  Alice  Hart  came  to  see  Sarah,  when  Lily 
and  she  were  playing  in  the  garden.  They  played  for 
an  hour  very,  merrily,  but  when  the  clock  struck  five, 
Lily  said,  "  I  must  go  home  now.  Good  by,  girls." 

180 


Consideration.  181 

"Wait  a  moment,"  cried  Sarah;  "  we  have  saved  up 
a  lot  of  things  for  you." 

Lily  took  the  basket  and  the  bundle  of  clothes,  and 
thanked  her  friend  for  them. 

When  she  had  gone,  Alice  said,  "0,  does  Lily  take 
things  from  you?  I  did  n't  know  she  was  so  poor. 
She  is  the  smartest  girl  in  our  class,  and  I  never 
thought  she  was  poor." 

Sarah  was  sorry  that  Alice  knew  of  the  matter,  for 
she  felt  that  she  might  speak  of  it  to  the  girls  in 
school.  She  tried  to  make  Alice  promise  not  to  speak 
of  it,  but  next  day  all  the  girls  in  school  knew  that 
Lily  took  food  and  clothing  from  Sarah's  mother. 

Lily  was  taunted  again  and  again  by  the  thought- 
less girls. 

She  was  glad  when  school  was  out,  and  she  ran 
home  to  her  mother,  who  found  it  very  hard  to  com- 
fort her. 

"  What  shall  I  do  about  it,  mamma?  "  asked  Sarah 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  when  she  had  told  her  mother 
all  about  it. 

"  I  was  afraid  that  Alice  might  speak  of  it.  You 
should  not  have  given  Lily  those  things  while  Alice 
was  there.  We  might  have  carried  them  over,  later. 
You  see,  my  dear,  you  meant  to  be  kind  to  Lily,  but 
you  did  not  think  that  it  would  be  so  much  pleasanter 
for  her  not  to  have  any  one  know  of  it." 

"  We  will  go  over  and  see  Mrs.  Morton  and  Lily," 
said  Mrs.  Newman,  "  and  do  what  we  can  to  let  them 
feel  that  we  are  their  friends." 

When  Mrs.  Newman  and  Sarah  entered  the  little 
cottage  where  Lily  lived,  she  came  to  meet  them  smil- 
ing, but  her  eyes  were  still  red. 


182  Appendix. 

Mrs.  Newman  and  Sarah  were  so  kind,  and  so  sorry 
for  what  had  happened,  that  the  two  girls  parted 
better  friends  than  ever.  Sarah  never  forgot  to  think 
of  the  feelings  of  others. 

When  she  was  a  woman,  she  helped  many  thou- 
sands of  poor  people,  but  she  never  forgot  that  to  help 
others  is  to  be  kind  to  them;  but  to  help  them  so  that 
it  will  not  hurt  their  feelings  is  to  be  considerate. 


KINDNESS. 

WHY  do  we  all  like  to  meet  kind  people? 

John  Rogers  is  a  boy  whose  face  is  freckled  and 
whose  clothes  are  poor;  but  he  smiles  and  says  "  Good 
evening"  so  pleasantly  when  he  meets  you  on  the 
street,  that  you  feel  better  for  having  seen  him. 

Rose  Wilcox  is  the  daughter  of  the  rich  banker  who 
lives  in  the  great  house  on  the  corner;  but  she  is  so 
truly  kind  to  every  one,  no  matter  if  they  are  rich  or 
poor,  that  everybody  likes  her. 

But  here  is  Ralph  Stone;  his  cross,  selfish  face 
makes  us  feel  that  we  had  rather  not  meet  him.  One 
day  his  teacher  spoke  to  Ralph  about  kindness. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  being  kind?  "  said  Ralph.  "  If 
I  lend  a  boy  a  pencil,  he  may  lose  it,  or  at  least  he 
will  use  the  point,  so  that  I  shall  have  to  sharpen  it. 
If  I  don't  give  him  my  pencil,  I  have  less  trouble. 

"  If  I  give  some  of  my  apples  away,  I  have  less  for 
myself.  I  don't  see  any  use  in  being  kind.  I  don't 
borrow  or  take  anything  from  the  other  children,  so 
why  should  I  give  mine  away?  " 

"  You  didn't  even  help  George  Smith  with  his  lesson 
at  recess  when  he  asked  you,"  said  his  teacher.  "  He 
is  a  new  boy,  and  does  not  know  you.  No  one  who 
knows  you  would  think  of  asking  you  for  a  kindness. 
It  would  have  cost  you  nothing  to  have  helped  George." 

183 


184  Appendix. 

"  Well,  I  got  the  lesson  myself  without  any  help,  so 
I  thought  he  could  do  the  same  " ;  but  Ralph  looked  a 
little  ashamed  of  himself  when  he  said  this. 

"  So  you  mean  never  to  give  or  to  receive  kindness, 
do  you?  "  said  Miss  Wilbur. 

"  Yes,  that  is  it;  I  don't  see  any  use  in  it,"  Ralph 
answered. 

"  What  about  the  kindness  you  have  already  re- 
ceived? "  she  asked. 

"  0,  that  isn't  so  much!  "  said  Ralph. 

"  Is  not  the  kindness  of  your  mother  and  father 
much?  " 

"  O,  well,  they  are  my  parents,  and  they  have  to  do 
it,"  said  Ralph. 

* '  What  about  your  schoolmates  ?  "  asked  Miss  Wilbur. 

"  They  are  not  kind  to  me,"  was  the  answer. 

"  No;  as  a  rule,  they  do  not  notice  you  very  much. 
You  are  always  so  unkind,  that  they  do  not  like  you. 
But  one  or  two  of  them  have  been  very  kind  to  you. 
Last  winter,  when  you  were  lying  on  the  ice  with  a 
badly  sprained  ankle,  John  and  Walter  Rogers  carried 
you  through  the  darkness  until  you  were  safe  in  the 
house  of  a  friend. 

"  If  they  had  left  you,  think  what  might  have  hap- 
pened !  Even  if  they  had  gone  for  help,  which  would 
have  been  much  easier  for  them,  you  might  have 
died  in  the  bitter  cold  before  help  came. 

"  But  these  boys  did  the  best  thing  for  you,  though 
it  was  hard  for  them.  They  carried  you  almost  a 
mile.  Have  you  ever  done  anything  to  repay  that 
kindness?  " 

"  Well,  father  offered  to  pay  them,  but  they  would 
not  take  any  money,"  said  Ralph. 


Kindness.  185 

"  That  was  right;  they  may  be  poor,  but  they  do 
not  have  kindness  for  sale/'  said  Miss  Wilbur.  "  No, 
Ralph,  we  cannot  do  without  kindness  in  the  world. 
Think  what  life  would  be  if  people  were  not  kind  to 
each  other!  Even  animals  are  kind  to  each  other. 

"  I  once  knew  a  canary-bird  much  more  willing  to 
help  others  than  you  are.  This  bird's  name  was  Pete, 
and  he  belonged  to  my  little  sister  Mary. 

"Pete  was  so  tame  that  be  was  allowed  to  fly  in  and 
out  as  he  pleased.  He  always  came  when  Mary  called 
him  to  go  to  sleep  in  the  evening.  But  one  evening 
Pete  did  not  come.  She  went  into  the  garden  and 
called  again.  Pretty  soon  he  came  flying  toward  her, 
but  he  did  not  let  her  catch  him  as  usual,  but  flew  a 
short  distance  away.  She  followed  him,  but  he  flew 
on  and  on,  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  garden.  There 
on  the  grass  lay  a  bluebird  with  a  broken  wing.  Pete 
knew  that  Mary  would  help  him,  and  this  was  his 
way  of  showing  her  where  the  wounded  bird  was." 

"O,  well,  anything  like  that,"  said  Ralph.  "I 
.  would  not  let  a  boy  with  a  broken  leg  or  a  sprained 
ankle  lie  and  freeze  to  death!  " 

"  But  you  would  not  care  to  help  carry  him;  you 
would  go  to  the  next  house  and  tell  the  people  about 
it,  and  let  them  do  the  work. 

"  But,  Ralph,  I  am  speaking  to  you  about  this  be- 
cause I  believe  you  never  thought  of  being  kind. 
Have  you  ever  done  a  kindness  to  any  one?  " 

"I  let  Will  Hunter  have  my  knife,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Yes,  but  what  did  he  give  you  for  the  use  of  it?  " 
Ralph  blushed  and  said  nothing.  "You  made  a 
sharp  bargain  with  Will.  He  had  to  promise  to  make 


186  Appendix. 

you  two  of  his  best  willow  whistles  for  the  use  of  your 
knife  one  afternoon." 

"How  do  you  know?  Did  Will  tell?"  asked  Ralph, 
in  surprise. 

"  No,  he  told  me  nothing,  but  I  heard  it.  Now, 
Ralph,  the  children  are  about  to  begin  their  noon 
play.  Go  out  among  them  and  try  to  see  the  kind- 
ness of  which  I  speak.  This  evening  I  hope  you  will 
have  some  kind  deed  to  tell  me  about." 

Ralph  went  out  and  looked  on  while  the  boys 
played.  He  watched  to  see  if  there  was  so  much  kind- 
ness as  Miss  Wilbur  had  claimed. 

The  boys  were  playing  a  game  with  their  tops. 

George  Smith,  the  new  boy,  stood  near,  and  looked 
as  if  he  wished  to  play. 

Walter  Rogers  called  to  him,  "Come  on,  George, 
have  you  got  a  top?"  George  shook  his  head.  "  You 
can  spin  mine." 

Then  he  saw  Ralph  take  his  top  from  his  pocket;  he 
looked  as  if  he  wished  to  offer  it,  yet  did  not  know 
how. 

Walter  turned  to  Ralph,  "Do  you  want  to  play, 
Ralph?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  but  George  may  use  my  top  if  he  wants  to," 
he  said. 

But  George  did  not  care  to  take  it,  he  had  been  so 
unkindly  treated  before.  "  Just  take  it,  George,"  said 
Ralph,  as  if  he  really  wished  to  lend  it;  "I'll  watch 
you  play." 

George  took  the  top  and  proved  to  be  a  good  player. 
Ralph  enjoyed  the  game.  He  was  surprised  to  see 
how  kind  they  were  about  lending  each  other  top- 


Kindness.  187 

strings  and  tops.  They  did  little  kind  acts  all  the 
time,  yet  they  did  not  seem  to  think  about  it. 

Some  other  boys  were  playing  horse,  and  a  little 
fellow,  who  stood  in  the  way  of  a  prancing  team,  was 
pushed  down  and  began  to  cry.  John  Rogers,  who 
was  cutting  something  from  paper  near-by,  picked 
him  up.  He  carefully  brushed  the  dust  from  his 
clothes,  but  the  little  boy  cried  on. 

Then  John  took  a  paper  cow  which  he  had  been 
cutting  and  gave  it  to  the  little  boy.  He  laughed 
when  he  saw  what  it  was,  and  ran  away  happy. 

That  evening  after  school  Miss  Wilbur  said  to 
Ralph,  "  Did  you  see  any  kindness  among  the  boys  at 
noon?  " 

Ralph  told  her  what  he  had  seen.  "Have  you 
learned  anything  about  kindness?"  she  asked. 

"I  guess  it's  a  pretty  good  thing,"  said  Ralph, 
blushing. 

"  I  think  so  too,"  said  Miss  Wilbur.  "  Your  life 
will  be  much  happier  if  you  do  all  the  kindness  you 
can  as  you  go  along.  Good  night,  Ralph." 

"  Good  night,  Miss  Wilbur,"  and  Ralph  smiled  so 
pleasantly  that  he  looked  like  another  boy. 


FRANK'S   LESSON. 

ONE  summer  Frank  went  to  visit  his  uncle  and  aunt, 
who  lived  in  a  pleasant  village  not  far  from  his  home. 
They  were  glad  to  have  him  come,  as  they  had  no 
children  of  their  own,  and  knew  Frank  to  be  a  pleas- 
ant and  helpful  boy. 

One  day  his  uncle  came  home  with  a  pair  of  beauti- 
ful goats.  "  Frank,"  he  said,  "  these  goats  will  pull  a 
cart.  You  might  make  a  new  box  for  that  cart  out  in 
the  workshop,  and  when  I  get  a  harness  you  will  have 
a  fine  turnout." 

Frank  was  much  pleased,  and  he  went  to  the  work- 
shop to  see  what  he  could  do  with  the  cart.  His  father 
was  a  carpenter;  so  Frank  had  learned  to  use  tools 
very  nicely. 

He  went  to  work  planing  and  sawing,  but  when  he 
looked  for  nails  to  put  his  cart  together,  he  found  only 
heavy  iron  ones  in  his  uncle's  nail-box. 

"  Frank,"  said  his  aunt,  just  then  coming  into  the 
workshop,  "  will  you  go  down  to  the  store  for  me?  I 
am  very  busy." 

Frank  started  on  his  errand  at  once.  On  his  return, 
he  passed  a  house  which  was  being  built  near  his 
uncle's  home.  As  it  was  late,  the  workmen  had  gone 
home. 

Near  the  walk,  Frank  saw  a  slender  steel  nail, —  just 
such  a  one  as  he  needed  for  his  cart,  —  and  he  picked 
it  up.  Then  he  noticed  several  nail-kegs  under  the 

188 


Frank's  Lesson.  189 

porch.  He  went  up  and  found  them  full  of  just  the 
kind  of  nails  he  wanted.  He  had  nothing  but  his  hat, 
so  he  took  that  off  and  put  several  handfuls  of  nails 
into  it.  Then  he  ran  home. 

Frank  had  hoped  to  go  into  the  workshop  to  empty 
his  hat  before  his  aunt  saw  him,  but  she  was  waiting 
for  him  on  the  porch  as  he  came  up. 

11  Why,  Frank,  what  is  in  your  hat?"  she  asked  as 
she  took  the  bundles  from  him. 

"  O,  it's  just  something  I  found,"  said  Frank. 

But  she  was  not  to  be  put  off  in  that  way.  "  What 
is  it,  Frank?  I  must  see  it." 

Then  he  showed  her  the  shining  nails. 

"  Where  did  you  get  them?  " 

"  O,  down  the  street." 

"  Frank,"  said  his  aunt,  "  you  never  tell  a  He;  I 
know  that  you  are  truthful.  Now,  tell  me  where  you 
got  them."  So  Frank  told  his  aunt  all  about  them. 

"  Frank,"  she  said,  when  she  had  heard  the  story, 
"  why  did  you  not  tell  us  that  you  needed  other  nails?  " 

"  I  did  not  like  to.  Uncle  had  just  bought  me  the 
goats  and  the  harness." 

"  Well,  of  course  we  shall  go  down  and  put  the  nails 
back  just  where  you  found  them.  We  cannot  sleep  in 
the  house  with  anything  that  has  been  stolen!  Do 
you  know,  Frank,  that  the  people  here  leave  every- 
thing open?  You  are  the  first  person  who  has  stolen 
anything  here  for  years!  " 

"Why,  Aunt  Martha!  I  did  not  steal  them!  I  only 
just  took  a  few,  and  there  were  kegs  and  kegs  of  them 
standing  open!  " 

"  Really,  Frank,  it  seems  meaner  to  me  to  take  a 


190  Appendix. 

thing  when  people  trust  you  and  do  not  lock  it  up, 
than  if  they  do  not  trust  you."  Frank  did  not  answer. 

"  Very  well,  if  you  do  not  want  to  go  down  to  return 
them  now  with  me,  we  will  wait  until  your  uncle 
comes  home.  He  is  a  lawyer,  and  will  know  what 
had  best  be  done." 

Frank  was  still  silent.  His  uncle  had  been  so  kind 
to  him,  and  always  treated  him  as  if  he  were  almost  a 
man.  He  was  afraid  to  face  him.  It  had  seemed  such 
a  little  thing  to  do  when  he  took  the  nails.  He  had  not 
called  it  stealing,  but  only  "  taking."  Now  he  saw 
his  deed,  which  had  not  grown  any  worse,  in  a  differ- 
ent light. 

His  aunt  took  the  hat  and  put  it  down  on  the  porch. 

"  We  will  not  take  them  in,  Frank,"  she  said;  "  we 
will  leave  them  here.  I  should  be  sorry  to  think  that 
a  stolen  thing  had  ever  entered  the  house  where  your 
uncle  and  I  live.  Your  uncle  is  a  man  who  is 
trusted  with  thousands  of  dollars.  He  has  a  chance 
to  steal,  every  day,  again  and  again.  But  do  you 
think  he  would  do  so,  just  because  he  has  the  chance? 

"  It  is  true  that  your  uncle  has  never  made  as  much 
money  as  some  others,  but  the  whole  country  knows 
him  to  be  a  man  who  can  be  trusted  in  great  things 
and  in  small,  and  that  is  more  than  much  money. 
His  name  is  Abraham,  you  know,  and  they  call  him 
'  Honest  Abe,'  just  as  they  did  Abraham  Lincoln.  I 
am  proud  of  him." 

"  Aunt  Martha,  if  you  will  go  with  me,  I  will  take 
those  back  now,  quick,  before  Uncle  Abe  gets  home." 
Frank  could  hardly  wait  for  his  aunt  to  get  a  wrap. 

They  met  no  one  on  the  street.     Aunt  Martha 


Frank's  Lesson.  191 

walked  around  the  new  house  and  watched  Frank  put 
the  nails  back.  They  did  not  speak.  When  they 
turned  to  go  home,  the  dog  in  the  next  yard  barked. 
Frank  started.  A  door  was  opened,  and  the  man  in 
the  door  saw  two  dark  figures  walking  away. 

"  Hello!  "  he  called  in  surprise.     "  Who  >s  that?  " 

"  It  is  Mrs.  King,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

"  Oh,  ah!  excuse  me,  Mrs.  King.  I  did  not  know 
but  it  was  some  one  doing  mischief.  Good  night, 
Mrs.  King.  Can  you  see  ?  " 

"  0  yes,  thank  you,  Mr.  Williams,"  she  said,  and 
the  door  was  closed.  Then  Aunt  Martha  took  Frank's 
hand  in  hers  and  they  walked  towards  home. 

"Aunt  Martha,"  said  Frank,  half  choking;  "I 
never  really  knew  before  what  stealing  was,  and  I  '11 
never  do  it  again.  I  know  it  now;  but  please  don't 
tell  Uncle  Abe;  please  don't,  Aunt  Martha!  We  boys 
always  called  it  taking,  but  I  '11  never  call  it  that 
again." 

"  Frank,  I  shall  never  tell  him.  It  is  not  mine  to 
tell,  now  that  you  have  returned  the  nails.  But  if  you 
really  feel  that  you  will  never  do  such  a  thing  again, 
why  not  tell  him  yourself? 

"  We  often  speak  of  lessons  in  doing  right  that  we 
learned  when  we  were  children — why  not  tell  him  of 
this  lesson?  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  more  manly 
to  tell  him?  He  is  so  kind,  and  he  will  understand 
how  you  did  not  really  know.  I  do  not  like  to  have 
this  secret  between  us,  you  see." 

"  Let  me  think  about  it  first,  Aunt  Martha,  please," 
Frank  pleaded. 

"  Of  course  you  shall,"  she  answered  kindly;  "but 


192  Appendix. 

remember  that  it  is  hard  to  sleep  on  a  thing  like  this. 
Better  get  rid  of  it  as  soon  as  you  can." 

They  reached  home  just  in  time.  Uncle  Abe  came 
in  a  little  later.  He  was  in  gay  spirits,  and  brought 
the  little  harness.  After  dinner  Mrs.  King  went  out 
to  see  a  neighbor,  and  when  she  returned  she  could 
see  by  Frank's  happy  face  that  he  had  told  his  uncle 
all  about  it. 

They  spent  a  very  pleasant  evening  together,  and 
Frank  was  glad  that  his  uncle  had  not  changed  tow- 
ard him,  but  treated  him  as  much  like  a  man  as 
ever. 


HOW  A  GLACIER  ANSWERED   A 
QUESTION. 

FOB  many  years  the  question  as  to  whether  glaciers 
moved  faster  near  the  banks,  or  midway  between 
them,  was  an  open  one  among  scientists. 

A  young  man,  Louis  Agassiz,  who  lived  in  Switzer- 
land, where  many  glaciers  are  moving  slowly  down 
the  mountain  sides,  determined  to  find  out  how  these 
great  rivers  of  ice  move. 

Accordingly,  he  pitched  his  tent  upon  a  glacier,  pre- 
pared to  stay  all  summer.  Near  his  tent  he  drove  a 
row  of  stout  pegs  in  a  straight  line  across  the  stream, 
and  watched  them  carefully  from  month  to  month, 
while  he  spent  his  days  in  the  mountains,  studying 
the  rocks  and  plants  and  animals  there. 

At  the  end  of  several  months,  the  pegs  were  no 
longer  in  a  straight  line,  but  formed  a  bow,  curving 
downward. 

Agassiz  had  said  to  the  glacier,  "  My  friend,  please 
tell  me  where  you  move  faster,  —  near  the  bank,  or  in 
midstream?  " 

The  glacier  answered  distinctly,  "  I  move  faster  in 
midstream." 

193 


MISCELLANEOUS   PROVERBS. 

1.  BETTER  be  alone  than  in  bad  company. 

2.  A  thousand  probabilities  will  not  make  one  truth. 

3.  By  learning  to  obey,  you  will  know  how  to  com- 
mand. 

4.  Charity  should  begin  at  home,  but  not  end  there. 

5.  Do  good  with  what  thou  hast,  or  it  will  do  thee 
no  good. 

6.  Each  day  is  a  new  life;  regard  it,  therefore,  as  an 
epitome  of  the  whole. 

7.  There  is  no  worse  robber  than  a  bad  book. 

8.  Use  soft  words  and  hard  arguments. 

9.  To  advise  and  take  advice  is  the  duty  of  true 
friendship. 

10.  Want  of  punctuality  is  a  kind  of  falsehood. 

11.  Wherever  there  is  flattery,  there  is  sure  to  be  a 
fool. 

12.  A  bad  workman  quarrels  with  his  tools. 

13.  Be  slow  to  promise,  but  quick  to  perform. 

14.  Keep  good  company,  and  be  one  of  the  number. 

15.  First  deserve  and  then  desire. 

16.  He  that  reckons  without  his  host  must  reckon 
again. 

17.  He  liveth  long  who  liveth  well. 

18.  Many  go  out  for  wool  and  come  home  shorn. 

19.  Live  not  to  eat,  but  eat  to  live. 

20.  Never  speak  to  deceive,  nor  listen  to  betray. 

21.  The  sting  of  a  reproach  is  the  truth  of  it. 

194 


Miscellaneous  Proverbs.  195 

22.  The  sin,  not  the  punishment,  makes  the  shame. 

23.  Entertain  no  thoughts  which  you  would  blush 
at  in  words. 

24.  He  who  will  not  be  ruled  by  the  rudder  must 
be  ruled  by  the  rock. 

25.  He  who  shows  his  passion  tells  his  enemy  where 
to  hit  him. 

26.  He  who  has  good  health  is  young. 

27.  Never  throw  stones  if  you  live  in  a  glass  house. 

28.  Few  wants  make  happy  hearts. 

29.  Make  hay  while  the  sun  shines. 

30.  While  you  see  the  faults  in  others,  do  not  judge 
them. 

31.  What  a  man  bears  willingly,  is  lightly  borne. 


QUOTATIONS. 

1.  No  PAST  is  dead  to  us,  but  only  sleeping.  —  Helen 
Hunt. 

2.  Our  ideals  are  our  better  selves.  —  Alcott* 

3.  The  problem  of  life  is  to  make  the  ideal  real.  — 
Parkhurst. 

4.  Happiness  is  not  the  end  of  life;  character  is.  — 
Beecher. 

5.  We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs.     He  most 
lives,  who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acts  the  best. 
— Bailey. 

6.  It  is  only  when  one  is  thoroughly  true  that  there 
can  be  purity  and  freedom.  —  Auerbach. 

7.  We  owe  to  man  higher  succors  than  food  and  fire. 
We  owe  to  man,  man.  —  Eliot . 

8.  It  is  not  a  question  of  what  a  man  has  acquired, 
but  of  what  he  is,  and  what  he  can  do.  —  Holland. 

9.  A  fault  which  humbles  a  man  is  of  more  use  to 
him  than  a  good  action  which  puffs  him  up  with 
pride.  —  Thomas  Wilson. 

10.  Good  humor  may  be  said  to  be  one  of  the  very 
best  articles  of  dress  that  one  can  possible  wear  in 
society.  —  Thackeray. 

11.  Man's  liberty  ends,  and  it  ought  to  end,  when 
that  liberty  becomes  the  curse   of  his  neighbors.  — 
Farrar. 

12.  Trouble  teaches  man  what  there  is  in  man- 
hood. —  Beecher. 

196 


Quotations.  197 

13.  Higher  than  the  perfect  song 

For  which  love  longeth, 
Is  the  tender  fear  of  wrong 
That  never  wrongeth.  —  B.  Taylor. 

14.  Something  the  heart  must  have  to  cherish, 

Must  love,  and  joy,  and  sorrow  learn. 
Something  with  passion  clasp  or  perish; 
And  in  itself  to  ashes  burn.  —  Longfellow. 

15.  Our  duty  is  to  be  useful,  not  according  to  our 
desire,  but  according  to  our  power.  —  Amiel. 

16.  Want  of  care  does  us  more  damage  than  want 
of  knowledge.  —  Franklin. 

17.  The    greatest  friend  of    Truth   is   Time;    her 
greatest  enemy  is  prejudice;  and  her  constant  com- 
panion is  humility.  —  Colton, 

18.  To  love  truth  for  truth's  sake  is  the  principal 
part  of  human  perfection,  and  the  seed-plant  of  all 
other  virtues.  —  Locke. 

19.  I  do  not  know  what  I  may  appear  to  the  world, 
but  to  myself  I  seem  to  have  been  only  like  a  boy 
playing  on  the  sea-shore  and  diverting  myself  in  now 
and  then  finding  a  smoother  pebble,  or  a  prettier  shell 
than  ordinary,  whilst  the  great  ocean  of  Truth  lay  all 
undiscovered  before  me.  — Newton. 

20.  Faith  is  among  men  what  gravity  is  among 
planets  and  suns;  it  keeps  them  in  their  orbits. — 
Parkhurst. 

21.  The  faith  which  you  keep  must  be  a  faith  that 
demands  obedience,  and  you  can  keep  it  only  by  obey- 
ing it.  —  Phillips  Brooks. 


198  Appendix. 

22.  The  truth  you  speak  does  lack  some  gentleness, 
and  time  to  speak  it  in;  you  rub  the  sore  when  you 
should  bring  the  plaster.  —  Shakespeare. 

23.  The  man  that  's  resolute  and  just, 
Firm  to  his  principles  and  trust, 

Nor  hopes  nor  fears  can  blind.  —  Walsh. 

24.  Errors  like  straws  upon  the  surface  flow; 

He  who  would  search  for  pearls  must  dive  below. 

— Dry  den. 

25.  Our  patience  will  achieve  more  than  our  force. 
— Burke. 

26.  Only  people  who  possess  firmness,  possess  true 
gentleness.  —  Rochefoucauld. 

27.  Patience  is  a  necessary  ingredient  of  genius.  — 
Disraeli. 

28.  Patience  is  the  strongest  of  strong  drinks,  for  it 
kills  the  giant  Despair. — Jerrold. 

29.  Virtue  will  catch,  as  well  as  vice,  by  contact.  — 
Burke. 

30.  Virtue,  when  it  is  a  matter  of  expediency  and 
calculation,  is  the  virtue  of  vice.  — Joubert. 

31.  Without  virtue  and  without  integrity,  the  finest 
talents  and  the  most  brilliant  accomplishments  can 
never  gain  the  respect  and  esteem  of  the  truly  valu- 
able part  of  mankind. —  Washington. 

32.  It  is  through  the  mysterious  human   relation- 
ships; through  the  love  and  tenderness  and  purity  of 
mothers,  sisters,  and  wives;  through  the  strength  and 
courage  and  wisdom  of  brothers,  fathers,  and  friends, — 
that  we  can  ^ome  to  the  knowledge  of  Him  in  whom 
alone  the  love  and  the  tenderness,  and  the  purity, 


Quotations.  199 

and  the  strength,  and  the  courage,  and  the  wisdom 
dwell  forever  and  in  perfect  fullness. — Thomas  Hughes. 

33.  What  sculpture  is  to  a  block  of  marble,  educa- 
tion is  to  a  human  soul. — Addison. 

34.  The   secret  of   education  lies  in  respecting  the 
pupil.  —  Emerson. 

35.  The  worst  education  which  teaches  self-denial, 
is  better  than  the  best  which  teaches  everything  else, 
but  not  that.  —  /.  Sterling. 

36.  A  little  management  may  often  evade  resistance, 
which   a  vast  force  might  vainly  strive  to  overcome. 
— -Anonymous. 

37.  To   know   how   to   suggest  is  the  great  art  of 
teaching.     To  attain  it,  we  must  be   able   to  guess 
what  will  interest.  We  must  learn  to  read  the  childish 
soul  as  we  might  a  piece  of  music. — Author. 


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VOL.111 

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By  HERBERT  BASHFORD 

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TEXT,  SUPPLEMENTARY 
AND  LIBRARY  BOOKS 

Elementary  Exercises  in  Botany,  by  Prof.  Volney  Rattan $0  75 

Key  to  West  Coast  Botany,  by  Prof.  Rattan 1  00 

Complete  Botany  (above,  two  in  one  Volume) 150 

New  Essentials  of  Bookkeeping,  by  Prof.  c.  w.  childs Net  75 

Topical  Analysis  of  U.  S.  History,  by  Prof.  C.  W.  Childs 1  00 

Heart  Culture,  Wessons  in  Humane  Education,  by  Emma  E.  Page  75 

Spanish  In  Spanish,  by  LuisDuque Net  125 

Patriotic  Quotations,  by  Harr  Wagner 40 

Key  to  State  Advanced  Arithmetic,  by  A.  M.Armstrong 1  00 

New  Manual  Of  Shorthand,  by  A.  J.  Marsh Net  1  25 

Studies  in  Entomology,  by  H.  M.  Bland 75 

Algebraic  Solutions  of  Equations,  by  Andre  &  Buchanan,  Net  80 

Study  of  the  Kindergarten  Problem,  by  Fred'k  i,.  Burk 50 

Orthoepy  and  Spelling,  by  John  W.  Imes,  (4  parts  each) 20 

Toyon— A  book  of  Holiday  Selections,  by  Allie  M.  Felker 

Paper,  35c.    Board,  60c.    Cloth 100 

Supplement  to  State  History,  by  Harr  Wagner 25 

Matka,  a  Tale  of  the  Mist  Islands,  by  David  Starr  Jordan 

(Schooled) 75 

Educational  Questions,  by  W.C.Doub 1  00 

Lessons  In  Language  Work,  by  Belle  Frazee Net  50 

WESTERN   SERIES  OF  PAPER  BOOKS 

No.  1.    Songs  of  the  Soul,  by  Joaquin  Miller 25 

No.  2.    Dr.  Jones' Picnic,  by  Dr.  S.E.  Chapman 25 

No.  3.    Modern  Argonaut,  by  I,eela  B.  Davis 25 

No.  4.    How  to  Celebrate  Holiday  Occasions— Compiled 25 

No.  5.   Patriotic  Quotations 25 

WESTERN    LITERATURE  SERIES 
No.  1.    Readings  from  California  Poets,  by  Edmund  Russell 

Paper,25c.    Board 40 

WESTERN   SERIES  OF  BOOKLETS 

No.  1.    California  and  the  Californians,  by  David  Starr  Jordan  25 

No.  2.    Love  and  Law,  by  Thos.  P.  Bailey 25 

No.  3.    The  Man  Who  Might  Have  Been,  by  Robert  Whitaker  25 

No.  4.    Chants  for  the  Boer,  by  Joaquin  Miller 25 

No.  6.    Toll,  Poems  by  D.  F.  Leary 25 

WESTERN    EDUCATIONAL  HELPS 

No.  1.    Civil  Government  Simplified,  by  j.j.Duvall 25 

No.  2.    An  Aid  in  the  Study  and  Teaching  of  Lady  of  the 

Lake,  Evangeline,  and  Merchant  of  Venice,  by  J. 

W.Graham. 25 

No.  3.    Grammar  by  the  Inductive  Method,  by  w.  C.  Doub. .  25 


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